


Being Fit

by Nerdiethings



Category: Super Smash Brothers, Wii Fit (Video Game)
Genre: Awkward Romance, Comedy of Errors, Crack Treated Seriously, Existential Crisis, F/F, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Mentions of Other Super Smash Brothers Characters, Misunderstandings, Political Alliances
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2019-09-07 01:04:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 39,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16844035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nerdiethings/pseuds/Nerdiethings
Summary: A simple, sheltered fitness trainer who had never left her island becomes an unlikely trusted adviser to a powerful princess and gains national attention when she's elected to join the Smash Tournament. Caught between political mind games while her simple fitness advise is mistaken for profound statements, the Wii Fit Trainer is forced to discover exactly who she is and what kind of person she can be.Inspired by Jerzy Kosiński's "Being There"





	1. The Center

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Trainer's home vanishes.

**It was Sunday.**

The Wii Fit Trainer was in the training room. She moved slowly, bringing her arms from one point to the next, carefully checking for any potential kinks in her body. Every stretch and exercise was carefully prepared for, gently working the body without exhausting herself. More importantly, making sure the exercise couldn’t exhaust any students. Students were full of muscles and bones that needed to be pushed to the limit.

Yet muscles were different from people. No muscle is able to think about itself or able to know itself; there is no mirror in which muscles can recognize its face, in part thanks to lacking a face to view. No muscle can do anything intentionally. They merely acted upon the whims of the people.

It was safe and secure in the training room, which was separated from the rest of the facilities by a plaster wall covered in a variety of paint. Not even the sounds of other employees and customers disturbed the peace. The Trainer ignored the sounds from the hallway. Though she had only stepped into the hallways a few times, she was not curious about life in the remainder of the building. Or the rest of Wuhu Island. Or any life beyond that.

What was particularly nice about the room was that, once in a while, the Trainer could sit down and think. The Trainer could imagine the walls slipping away and revealing nothing behind them. Only white void, with herself in the middle, completing her strength training exercises and yoga movements. Nothing but the exercises. It then occurred that she would miss the soft hum of the ceiling lights and the occasional appearances from students and bosses. So she would stand back up and return to her training and the world that surrounded it.

The exercises were the only real adventure she needed. Every step and movement was a journey waiting to unfold. By changing her position, she could change herself. She could be a dog, facing the ground. She could be a palm tree, tall and strong with the occasional wobble from what she assumed was what the wind felt like. She could be a triangle, a warrior, or even the moon itself shining down to enlighten students. And whenever she began to feel her true identity melting away, she simply had to look in the mirror and see her smiling reflection.

The sound of the creaking door bounced across the room like a balance ball. Through the mirror, she watched the Wii Balance Board carefully stepping into the room on its curved edges. She liked the Wii Balance Board. It commanded the Center with an unwavering strength, while remaining willing to stretch the rules for the greater benefit of the facilities.

For a moment, she saw the image of herself as a young girl, no smaller than she was now of course, and the image of the Balance Board, similarly unchanged through time. The words that the Board had stuck in her mind like the tiles to the floor. In recent years, health experts had said that people’s postures had been deteriorating at an alarming rate. Lack of exercise and poor lifestyle choices had weakened their sense of balance. It was truly a dark sign.

That was why she had been specially selected for the Center’s training program. All she to do was instruct the incoming students about how to improve their fitness level. This would help turn back the tide of poor posture habits and improve the health of the world. It would be perfect.

As much as she admired the Board, she didn’t like seeing it in her room. That meant something was about to change. While changing between poses was a natural part of life, they had a specific order and design. Altering the design with hairstyle choices or brands on her uniform made improving the lives of their students all the more difficult.

The glow from his power bar and the bouncing on its faux-legs proved that it was both awake and most likely talking to her. She couldn’t quite process what he was saying. She was a chair right now and chairs didn’t have ears. She rose from her pose, transforming back into a Trainer.

“-be difficult, but your acceptance is crucial. Understand?”

Not wanting to disappoint the Board, she nodded in understanding.

“Great! I’ll send them your way. You’ve done very well.”

She wasn’t sure what she did well, but it filled her body with a lightness. She gazed at the Board as it departed from the room, offering a chirpy “goodbye!” as it left. Satisfied with its departure, she quickly returned to her stretches

* * *

Time passed. She knew this because the clock on the wall had small hands that rotated in a circle.

A few students passed through on occasion, but they didn’t stay long. She felt a strange emptiness in her stomach when they turned down her offer to train. Even worse, they frequently took pieces of equipment with them.

Initially, she didn’t mind it. The balance ball was rarely used and she hadn’t touched the weights in her entire life. But when they attempted to remove the yoga mat, she became a brick wall. Nothing passed through walls, not even words of frustration. She was pleased when they left. Walls couldn’t breathe and the floors didn’t know how to support their balance. That had to be why she began to feel herself crumbling after being a wall for so long.

Eventually they took the clock. Time stopped, but the students continued to pass by the room. 

* * *

Relax your neck muscles and look down at your stomach. Hold this pose. Try to distribute weight equally between your hands and your feet. The weight on your hands is being measured. Let’s check the results of this test when we’re done with this pose. Great. Now return to your original position.

The Trainer stood up, rolling her shoulders, as two figures entered the room. Two women, one short with pigtails, the other in a long white coat. It didn’t seem very practical for stretching. The Trainer initially believed small, circular mirrors were resting on the woman’s hat, but further examination, the circles appeared to be transparent, yet attached to a rubber line that circled the woman’s hat.

She quickly recovered from her confusion, smiling brightly at them. “Hello there! Ready to work out today?”

The white coat woman blinked in confusion. “Erm… no thank you. We’re here on a behalf of WarioWare Inc and the state?”

The woman offered a hand, a huge smile on her face. The Trainer appreciated the stretching of facial muscles. “And I’m Mona!”

The Trainer observed the hand carefully before imitating the movement. Not a very difficult exercise, but she supposed it had merits.

Ms. Mona appeared to be waiting for something, her smile looking more strained and perplexed by the second. Eventually, she gripped the Trainer’s hand and shook it up and down. It was an unsettling sensation.

“And this is Ashley.” The smaller woman seemed decidedly unimpressed with the Trainer, or her surroundings at large.

“Should we get started?”

The Trainer smiled again. “Of course. What exercise would you like to begin with?”

Mona’s brow furrowed, his mouth struggling to form words. “I'm... sorry? Oh, you must mean-"

“You know about about this dumb meeting, right?” Ashley interrupted with a blunt tone.

Alarming students was strictly against the rules. She didn’t want the visitors to feel frustrated because they had forgotten to arrange for a training session.

“Of course. The Wii Fit Center has everything taken care of.”

“...Right, well, that’s what we’re here for. The secretary told us that you’d been living here, working as the Center’s trainer, right?” Mona inclined her head toward the Trainer. “But we can’t seem to find records of you being employed by Wii Sports Resort. And definitely nothing about living here. How many days have you been living here?”

The Trainer reflexively glanced toward where the clock used to be. Disappointed by the result, she turned back to the students. “Ever since I was young.”

“Oh, so you were hired while you were in school too?”

She shook her head. She didn’t know what this “school” was, but she was certain she had never participated in it.

“Hold on,” Mona lifted up a hand. “You’ve been here-in this center ever since you were a child? What’s your name, exactly?”

“I am the Wii Fit Trainer.”

Ashley rolled her eyes. “Yeah, we know, but what’s your name?”

She hesitated. An uneasy sensation crawled inside her stomach. She knew a person’s name was important. It had a connection to their life.

“My name is Wii Fit Trainer.”

Their expressions told her this wasn’t the right answer. She hoped the Board wouldn’t be too upset with her for failing this task.

“Let’s… just look through the records, okay?” Mona reached into her bag and pulled out various pieces of paper. “We have a complete list of everyone who were at any time employed by Wii Sports Resort.”

They stared at the Trainer, apparently waiting for something. They hadn’t asked for a specific exercise or requested anything, so she decided to stare back.

“Its puzzling, you know?” Mona’s voice prodded, attempting to lure out a response. “We haven’t found a name like ‘Wii Fit Trainer’ anywhere on the list. Are you _sure_ you’ve been employed here?”

She answered immediately and very deliberately. “I have always been the Trainer here. I have worked in this room all my life. As long as I can remember.”

Mona quickly interrupted. “But there’s no record of it. It’s clear that, throughout the Resort’s business, no trainer was employed. Are you a professional trainer?” Mona prodded again.

“I am the Trainer. No one knows training better than I.”

“But it’s not in the documents. And the Wii Fit Center has had very through documents so far. Everyone that’s worked here has been properly paid. Do you remember receiving any paychecks?”

Ah, she knew that word. Students had complained about things such as “bills” and “not enough on my paycheck” and expenses regarding the training sessions. Money was involved. She had no particular strong feelings on money.

She shook her head. This concept seemed particularly baffling for Mona.

“How were you paid then?”

“I have never been given any paychecks. I have had the privilege of working for the Wii Fit Center, furthering our goals and improving the lives of the students who require a fitness trainer. I was provided a yoga mat and the required uniform for this position.”

Ashley groaned in frustration. “What about beds, clothes, whatever, anything to _move this along_.”

“I changed into new uniforms when the facilities decided to switch to a different uniform design.”

“Okay, good, that’s good,” Mona nodded, understanding Ashley’s train of thought. “Where are those uniforms?”

“I do not know. The Balance Board told me I did not need the old uniforms anymore.”

Mona’s face fell from a hopeful smile to a disappointed frown, while Ashley dragged a hand down her face in irritation.

“How about birth certificate? Driver’s license? Medical card? You know.”

“I do not have any of those things,” said the Trainer.

“Anything that states your name, address, age, etc”

“I do not have any papers.”

“Any illnesses? Have you ever met a doctor or gone to the hospital?”

She felt disgust, a rather new sensation, bubble in her stomach. “I have never been sick. A trainer must remain healthy at all times.”

Ashley seemed intrigued by this point. “Some kind of health spell?”

The Trainer didn’t answer.

“Supposing that’s all true,” Mona said slowly, with a doubtful tone crawling over her words. “Are there any claims you want to make against the Wii Fit Center, Wii Sports Resort, or WarioWare Incorporated?”

The Trainer did not understand. “I am fine. I am happy with the training room.”

They liked this response, Ashley sighing in annoyed relief, Mona smiling softly.

“Then what are your next plans? Are you going to work for someone else?” It was a polite question.

Her expression shifted into puzzlement and concern for the first time. Why would she have to leave the Wii Fit Center? It was her home.

“I would like to stay here and continue training,” she said quietly.

The two students exchanged glances.

“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” Mona explained slowly. “The Island has been bought out by WarioWare Incorporated.”

The Trainer processed this carefully. “Won’t they need a Trainer?”

They shook their heads.

“I see.” The Trainer wasn’t sure how to respond.

Mona reached into her briefcase and pulled out another piece of paper. “We were hoping you could sign this paper.”

“I can not.”

“So you _do_ intend to file a suit?”

Why would she ever own a suit? “I have no intention of filing a suit.” She experimented with the words, letting it hiss out from her teeth.

“So you will sign?”

“I can not.”

She had never written anything before and didn't know how to start.

A growl of frustration escaped Ashley’s lips. “Just sign it so we can get out of here.”

“I can not sign it.”

“You haven’t even looked at it yet!”

“I can not.”

Mona lifted up a hand to calm Ashley. “Alright. I gotcha. Gotta be careful for the future.” She gathered hers documents together. “The building’s going to be under heavy construction by noon tomorrow. So we’ll see you at the boat around 10 am, alright? Make sure you grab any of your belongings before you leave.” She held out a small piece of paper towards her. The Trainer tried to imitate the movement Mona used on her before and Mona let the paper fall into the Trainer’s hand. “There’s my card if you need anything. See you soon, yeah!”

She offered another pleasant smile before leaving the room, an irritated Ashley following behind her.

The Trainer’s eyes were focused on the door, but her mind was an Olympic race, running faster and faster as new hurdles kept approaching. The Center was the entire world. She had no idea what would happen to her without it. Or it without her. Together, they were muscles, connected, working to keep the body moving. Now it appeared she was going to become a limb, floating through the abyss of the outside world.

 _But perhaps_ , said a stray thought, quickly reaching the front of the race, _this is what the Board wanted_. She may just be a limb, true. But she could be an arm. An arm of the Center, reaching into the world outside. She could be a mouth, spreading the glorious words of Fitness to all of that would hear it. The Center itself might be gone. Or it could be inside her, using her as a vessel to find future fitness endeavors.

A smile stretched onto her face as that feeling of lightness filled her body again. The Balance Board truly believed in her capabilities, trusting her with its life work. She had to make sure she didn’t let it down.

With a newfound confidence, she put Mona’s card into her pocket and began her journey to the world Outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Being There" was always a book (and a movie) that fascinated me. Its a story about a man who only has never had the chance to grow, suddenly faced with the wide world and all its possibilities. He succeeds completely unintentionally because of the way people project personality onto him. It a damning story about shallow media politics, but the character of Chance never quite finds the self-enlightenment he needs. If he can ever even become fully aware of anything is a question I've thought about a lot.
> 
> The Wii Fit Trainer has always fascinated me too. There's no unified version of her personality among fandom, because none can possibly exist. Who is she, really? What kind of character can someone without character be?
> 
> So I decided to try and combine those two fascinations.
> 
> I've got a heck of a backlog of chapters written, but updates will likely come every week. Gives me time to make edits or improvements on things I don't think are working.


	2. The Island and the Car

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Trainer leaves the Island and arrives in the Outside World.

**Leaving the room had been challenging at first**. She would reach the very edge of the door, peek into the hallway, before the empty feeling in her stomach would consume her. She would then retreat into the training room for a series of exercises.

After several hours of attempts, the Trainer finally stepped outside of the room. The hallway was emptier than she recalled. Not a single painting or body chart lined the walls. She took another reluctant step, followed by another. It wasn’t so hard, once you got the hang of it. The carpet was softer than the training room’s tiled floor, the air was normal… It had been so long since she’d ever left the training room and she couldn’t help but marvel at the remaining facilities.

She hesitated again at the exit door. What was outside these walls? She had never given it serious thought before today. It wasn’t relevant to her life in the Center.

She placed a hand on the metal bar, teeth clenched together as she slowly pushed against the glass structure…

And then turned around and walked back to her training room.

She had forgotten her yoga mat.

Carefully rolling it up and placing it beneath her left arm, she returned to the door. She completed a few deep breath exercises before finally pushing against it once more, stepping into the Unknown.

The Unknown was bright. She blinked repeatedly, squinting to even catch a glimpse of the surrounding area. She briefly took a few experimental steps forward before a sense of fear gripped her. She stood silently for a few minutes, unsure how to proceed, when something extraordinary occurred.

Her eyes adjusted to the light.

She had only experienced the sensation once or twice, when a training room light broke and it had to be replaced. But this was different. The world remained bright as could be, but her eyes were learning to adapt. Slowly, but surely, the surroundings became more and more clear.

Buildings of different shapes and colors peppered the town’s square. The tiles were much rougher than that of the Wii Fit Center, but she could manage. Above her was the brightest lightbulb she had ever seen. It has enough energy to brighten this entire island without any other lightbulbs to be seen. It looked like a giant ball. If she stared at it took long, her eyes began to ache in pain. She couldn’t find any edge or tiles to the bright blue ceiling, unless the fluffy white shapes were part of the design. If she didn’t know any better, she would almost think the ceiling went on forever.

This was Wuhu Island. Home of the Wii Sports Resort and the Wii Fit Center.

At the edge of the town, the tiles gave way to an even harsher, tougher terrain. She attempted to walk on it for a few feet before stepping on what she assumed was a large, green carpet. It wasn’t as soft or clean-cut as the Center’s carpets, but she found herself enjoying the sensation nonetheless.

She eventually reached an incredibly soft terrain. With every step, she could feel her foot sink a little into the ground. If she pressed her foot into it, she could even go deeper into it. She paused and carefully kneeled down to feel the carpet. It was so loose, she could pick up parts of it and let all the pieces fall from her hand.

The area ahead looked even looser. Pure blue, constantly moving and bouncing. A strange, immense mechanism had been left on this blue carpet, albeit tied to wooden post. If she had to guess from the movement of the carpet and the mechanism, this was to ensure the large thing didn’t leave the edge of the light brown carpet.

She stepped onto the blue carpet warily, only to feel her entire leg fall right through it. Panic overtook her, and she fell into the other carpet, scrambling away from this strange… _thing_.

After several deep breathe exercises, she crawled back towards the blue carpet. Placing a hand into the blue beast, a cold, unfamiliar sensation gripped it. She quickly pulled away from the carpet once again. Her hand felt… strange. A substance from the carpet remained on her hand, dripping away with every movement.

The blue moving carpet was strange. But it seemed harmless.

She stood up, stepping into the blue once more. At the bottom of the blue carpet was the same sort of light brown carpet she had seen in the rest of this area. Maybe it was less of a carpet and more of a covering?

She continued forward into the carpet, letting the strange substance overtake her. As long as she kept moving forward, she would reach this “boat” eventually.

How dangerous could this Outside world be? 

* * *

“What do you _mean_ she nearly drowned?!”

Ashley shrugged. “Walked right into the ocean. She couldn’t swim.”

“Who can’t swim?!”

The girl glared an icy look at Mona.

She held up her hands in a calming gesture. “Take it easy. Is she okay?”

Ashley shrugged. “I guess. I didn’t stay long to check. Doc said she’d probably be asleep until the boat reached shore.”

Mona rubbed her neck as she fiddled with her goggles. “Geez. I guess we'll just have to keep an eye on her until we get her to shore and find some relatives..”

Ashley rolled her eyes. “Who cares? She’s just a freak.”

“C’mon. She’s eccentric, sure, but she clearly loved her job...”

“More like she was obsessed with it. She’s basically a robot. Like, hey, having a job isn't a personality, lady.”

Mona raised an eyebrow. “And what would your traits be?”

“Not being a sports weirdo or bike hag.” She tapped her foot impatiently. “Can we tell the turtle to take off? I want off this island and her out of my hair.”

Mona frowned. “We still need to find someplace to put her. She clearly can’t be on her own, not yet.”

“That’s not our problem. We’re just supposed to get the fat man’s stupid island ready.”

“We can’t just dump her in the city!”

“Whatever.” The girl was already moving to leave the room. “Just leave me out of it.”

"Oh, no way. You're the one handling this."

That successfully spawned a rare reaction from the girl. She spun around glaring angrily. " _No_."

Mona held strong, crossing her arms and fixing the child with a stern look. "This is our job. You have to _actually_ pitch it."

" _I will fill your socks with frogs_."

"Which you can do _after_ work is settled."

Ashley sputtered angrily for a few seconds before quickly storming off, slamming the door behind her. Mona simply sighed and returned to her work. That strange woman was a puzzle, to be sure. But for all her fuss, she was sure Ashley could handle things from here.

It wouldn't be until much later that Mona would regret putting the thought of the Wii Fit Trainer out of her mind.

* * *

The Trainer had never fallen asleep before. It was a strange sensation. Emptying your mind of thoughts was easy enough. Not completing exercises during the process felt alien and wrong.

She spent her first moments awake getting up from the mattress, beginning one of her standard routines. For a time, she completed poses such as the Half-Moon or Tricep Extensions. Eventually, she was satisfied and walked to the door. The remainder of the building appeared to be made of wood. After walking for some few minutes, she reached a strange section of the hallway. The floor stopped at a short wall. The wall rose until reaching another floor. This design choice persisted until the walls and floors eventually reached something above the current hallway.

She slowly raised her right foot, moving carefully onto the next floor, before setting it down. She pushed off the ground and brought her left foot up the step. Amazing. The outside world used exercise equipment to help people go upward and downward in a building. There could be hope for them yet.

She continued up the steps before reaching the next floor of the strange building. She blinked in surprise, eyes adjusting to the light, before recognizing her surroundings. It was the strange, large device she had seen on the blue carpet. She didn’t remember stepping onto it. She didn’t remember much after her head entered the strange blue carpet.

Step by step, she followed the bar at the edge of the structure. She could spot similar looking devices on the blue carpet, peppering the landscape, moving at fast speeds across the carpet.

These strange creations must be designed to travel along the blue carpet. Could _this_ be the boat Ms. Mona had mentioned? The Trainer grimaced slightly at the thought. Mona seemed pleasant enough, but apparently she enabled the lazy practices of the outside world.

...Although on the other hand, the blue carpet was pretty difficult to move through. Even herself, a Trainer par excellence, had passed out from the trouble. Perhaps, she relented, she could understand the benefits of “boats” for now.

Various men and women passed by the Trainer, some giving a polite nod, others rushing off somewhere, or others who stared at her for a long moment before continuing past. The bar led the Trainer away from them, soon taking her to the other side of the vessel.

Her eyes widened in surprise.

She knew these images, vaguely, from the Balance Board’s descriptions, pictures in the lobby, and other small descriptions she’d overheard up through the years. Yet it didn’t quite match the real thing. Light dazzle her eyes. The roads were more pristine, more clear than the pictures. Metal creatures traveled down those black roads, so much bigger in person than she had expected from the stories, the tops shimmering in the light, and emitting a large rumbling noise as they jet past the-- what were they called again? Oh yes-- sidewalk. Passerby were carried by their feet along this sidewalk, all moving with a sense of purpose and direction.

The Trainer felt her feet move forward in fascination, soon traveling down a plank that connected the boat to the city. She had been warned about cities. It was a testament to the sloth of the world. Everything was close, packed-together, barely any room to stretch or breathe (which were practically interchangeable as far as the Trainer was concerned). Nobody has to work hard for anything. It was all within their grasp whenever they wanted it. This, the Board explained, encouraged poor lifestyle choice and bad posture, which weakened the center of balance. But no one told her the city would look so beautiful. She lacked the words to describe it, largely because the Trainer didn’t know a lot of words.

She soon reached the street, crossing through it aimlessly, distracted by the wonders around her, absorbing them into her mind. The buildings shot into the sky, surely scraping the ceiling by now, glistening against the light. An abandoned piece of paper or wrapping occasionally peppered the streets, but by and large the world was clean.

Four sensations possessed her, one after the other.

The first was a small feeling of regret: she wished she had recovered her yoga mat. Having a piece of the Center with her would have truly made her feel at home in this fascinating new world.

The second was the feeling of heat on her back. She stopped her trek in the middle of the street, gazing around her. She had yet to find a single thermostat. Someone should really turn down the heat. Or at least dim the light above everyone.

The third sensation was puzzlement as her attention was drawn to one of the metal creatures. She couldn’t figure out why it was releasing that squealing sound as it rushed toward her.

The fourth was entirely new and the Trainer did not know the name for it. All she knew that it caused her to scream in agony.

Thought swirled like a torso-twist, yet lacking the rigid order and regulation she trained into herself. She was vaguely aware of various noises and sights moving around her, but her concentration was centered on this piercing sensation in her leg. Her eyes focused on her lower body. It appeared to be stuck under the beast she had been staring at just a second ago.

Sounds became more clear.

“Mother of mercy!”

“Is she alright?!”

“Someone call an ambulance!”

“Miss? Miss!”

A hand appeared in her line of sight, two fingers snapping together. The Trainer followed the hand to its source: a small figure with a strangely shaped head. He seemed to be wearing white pants and a blue jacket with yellow trims.

“Just- just stay calm, alright? W-we’ll figure this out!” Despite his advice, he was shaking frantically and looking around in a panic.

The Trainer nodded her head before attempting to stand up. This quickly proved impossible with her leg pinned and she collapsed back on the ground.

“Waaaah!” the creature wailed. “N-no no no! You gotta stay still, alright?”

“Oh my!” came a high-pitched voice. A tall woman in pink was standing behind the small person now, gloved hands covering her mouth. “Toad, you need to get the car off her leg! Quickly!”

The “Toad” nodded quickly before skedaddling back to the vehicle. Within seconds, the car moved backward, releasing the leg at long last. The Trainer attempted to stand on both feet again, only to discover the same result. Now that she could see her leg, it appeared to be swelling in a red blotch.

The woman frowned in concern. “Oh dear… I hope nothing is broken.”

The thought caused the Trainer to lose any small amount of color that may have existed in her face. What would she do if she couldn’t train? The Board would be so disappointed in her if she allowed her foot to break on her first day in the outside world.

“It will be alright,” the Trainer insisted, voice trembling slightly despite herself.

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am. We’ve never had an accident before. Come, let me help you up.”

The woman knelt down and put her arm around the Trainer. Toad quickly raced to the Trainer’s other side and pushed her back off the ground. The two lifted the Trainer to her feet, with the pink woman keeping a hold of the Trainer’s arm, supporting the injured foot. The two carried her into the beast, giving her a comfortable seat to rest.

“Don’t worry everyone!” Toad’s high-pitched wail bounced from the street to the beast. “The Princess will take her to the best medical facility we have!”

Sounds of relief made their way to her before the door closed.

The woman introduced herself. “I am Princess Peach. Sorry again about all this.”

The Trainer nodded politely. An odd moment passed where Peach appeared to be waiting for something. The Trainer recalled how Mona introduced herself just yesterday. She mimicked the movement, putting her hand forward, which the Princess quickly grabbed and shook.

“Princess Peach,” she repeated in understanding.

“That’s right,” she smiled. “Tell me, what’s your name?”

Mona and Ashley seemed unsatisfied when the Trainer told them her name. Perhaps, she reflected, it was because the Wii Fit Center had been shut down. “Wii Fit” no longer applied.

“I am Trainer.”

“Traynor?” Peach repeated in turn. “What an unusual name. It’s very nice.”

Before Trainer could respond, she felt the pain in her leg spike up again. She grit her teeth together, attempting to restrain the pain somehow. Then for the second time in her life, she felt her conscious mind vanish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't planning on posting this chapter earlier than Friday, but it was relatively short compared to other future chapters and it seemed kinda silly to wait two weeks for the next one too. So what the hell, here's chapter two and chapter three will be on Friday as scheduled. The rest of these will probably be updated weekly until the full story is finished. Gotta keep that backlog as an actual backlog


	3. Princesses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Trainer discovers royalty.

**The Trainer** **awoke in a room flooded with light**. She was lying on another soft bed. Larger and comfier than the one before. She blinked experimentally, staring at the ceiling above her. No tiles. Instead a smooth, painted surface with complicated patterns and styles.

She shifted her head to the side of the bed. The Princess Peach was there, reading from a book. She looked up quickly at the sound of shuffling sheets. 

“Traynor?” her mouth moved slowly. Seeing the pale woman moving about, the woman in the pink dress smiled. “Oh thank goodness. Don’t worry, you're safe now.”

For a brief moment, the Trainer believed she was back in the Center. But the surroundings were more colorful, more comfortable, with not a single trace of exercise equipment.

“I stopped moving and thinking,” she noted. It was an alarming experience.

“Yes, you lost consciousness for a little while there. How are you feeling?”

The Trainer wiggled her toes experimentally. The leg had been wrapped with a white bandage, which matched quite well with her regular skin, save the purple blotch down her calf.

“Don’t worry, we have one of the best doctors in the kingdom taking care of it.” Princess Peach’s voice was soft and soothing. It reminded the Trainer of the light breeze on the island.

There was a knock at the door. It opened and another strange-headed figure stepped in, wearing a purple smock and face mask.

“NOT SO GRAVE ILLNESS!” a voice boomed from beneath the mask. “Am I Dr. Toadley? I am. Are you Trainer? Possibly! Did the Princess bring you here? Of course.”

He strolled over to the bed, leading the Trainer to quickly scoot away. Doctors were for people who got sick. She had to stay healthy at all times.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Peach said with an assuring tone. “He’s just going to make sure your leg is healing nicely. You’ll be walking around in no time!”

That did sound promising. She slowly allowed the doctor step closer. He felt her leg a bit, carefully watching her expressions while he checked the wound.

“Are you healing normally?” he questioned eventually. Just like the other questions, he interrupted her before she could answer. “You are not. Is it taking longer than usual? It is. Will you heal at all? You will. Thanks to the expert skills of Doctor Toadley? Of course. What must you do? Rest and eat.”

These were horrifying suggestions of great personal insult. But the doctor was leaving before she could protest. “Should you have a good rest? You should.”

She opened her mouth to object, but soon Princess Peach was interrupting her as well. “I must apologize again for the accident. I didn’t meant to hurt you! I hope it didn’t inconvenience you too much.”

Worrying customers about the Trainer’s own health was strictly against the rules. The pale woman shook her head seriously. “I feel perfectly fine. I should get back to work.”

The princess appeared alarmed. “Please, rest! You shouldn’t strain yourself so soon! I’m sure we can explain the whole situation to your employers. Who do you work with?”

The Trainer hesitated. She’d always been given complete control of her facilities, as long as she followed the rules of the Center. There had never been a reason for a fellow Wii Fit Center employee to step in.

“I work alone.”

Princess Peach’s mouth took on the shape of a zero. “How about family?”

“There is no one.”

The woman seemed very sad. The Trainer wondered why.

“Perhaps, if you don’t mind me saying so, you should stay here until your injury has healed. Just to make sure you return to your full health.”

“I am always at my full health.”

She smiled. “Then let’s try to improve it further.”

It was at that moment the Trainer decided she liked Princess Peach.

* * *

Thanks to the clock on the wall, the Trainer could once again see time moving forward. Without time, events just seemed to happen one after the other. It was a little inconsiderate. The hands of the clock were stretching as hard as it could. It couldn’t stretch any faster.

Or could it?

Thoughts such as these jogged through her mind occasionally. There wasn’t much else to do. Completing any of her exercises was difficult in this room. She could stretch her arms well enough, but her leg had trouble cooperating. A sharp sensation would echo through her entire body if she moved the leg too much. She had never felt anything like it before.

She found it disagreeable.

But it lessened as time continued marching forward. Soon she would be allowed to remove the bandage and the “pain,” as the doctor called it, would vanish.

The Princess Peach woman was pleasant and cheerful. The strange shaped “Toads” seemed to gain bounds of energy whenever she was around. At one point, after a series of loud bangs and screams in the adjourning rooms, the princess stopped visiting for a time. But she returned within a few days, apologizing for her absence. She explained the disappearance with words the Trainer didn’t understand, such as “Coo-Pa” and “kidnapping”.

One day she invited some “friends” over. The Trainer knew the word friend from somewhere, but the definition eluded her. They all had their own last names, yet they all had the same first name: “Princess”.

The Trainer watched silently as they chatted, words flying faster than she could follow. Unsure of what to add to the conversation, she attempted repeating someone’s words, in a different order.

“See, Traynor understands,” the Lucina woman nodded approvingly after one such comment. “The tournaments are a crucial event.”

Princess Peach sighed. “I understand what you’re saying, but I’ve simply never enjoyed them all that much. I feel it’s time for me to step down.”

“After so many tournaments, exhaustion is only natural,” Zelda sipped her tea calmly. “But your presence in the Smash tournaments remains essential. Do you really think your admirer will keep attending if you bow out?”

Peach frowned. “True… I would just appreciate more time to focus on other things.”

Lucina nodded again. “Being a ruler’s hard work. There’s a lot you need to balance. My father once told me that finding reliable friends to lessen your workload is essential.”

“Even so, the tournaments just take me away from the castle for too long. I just wish there was something to make it easier.”

“Sometimes we’re too close to a problem to see a simpler solution,” Zelda interjected again, gazing shifting over to the Trainer. “Tell me Traynor, what do you think?’

The Trainer’s eyes glanced quickly at the three women, who were now looking at her expectantly. Her mind raced, searching for anything from the conversation she might have grasped, any phrase or buzzword she’d used to help customers back in the Center.

“Experts,” she began cautiously “worry that our unhealthy lifestyles weaken our stability and balance. An increase in proper exercise is essential to further development and personal happiness.”

“By increasing the number of fighters!” Peach smiled in supposed understanding. “That’s an excellent idea!”

“Interesting proposition, Traynor,” Zelda noted, examining the Trainer with an unusual expression. “But where should we get these fighters?”

“I would be happy to lend the sword of myself and my comrades.”

“Your presence would be appreciated.” A sigh. “Yet I can’t help but think too many new fighters from one country would launch some accusations of bias.”

“True,” Lucina reluctantly agreed. “Given Ylisse’s alliance with Altea, entering the ring when Lord Marth is already an accomplished fighter… it could be taken the wrong way.”

Peach nodded solemnly. “The tournament is supposed to bring people together, after all.”

The words were far beyond the Wii Fit Trainer, but she was able to grasp one thing. Judging from their approval of her response, these “tournaments” had something to do with exercise. What a welcome relief. The outside world celebrated exercise with some sort of grand event, treated with tantamount importance and respect.

“Exercise is good for everyone,” she ventured with an enthusiastic chirp.

Peach’s eyes widened, clasping her hands together in delight. “Of course! What a wonderful idea!”

The other two Princesses raised an eyebrow. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

“Traynor’s come up with a solution to all our problems.”

“She has?”

She had?

“Of course! We open up registration to the public. Let the people, not just celebrities and royalty and representatives, get a moment of fame.”

“The boost in public morale would be incredible. I can’t believe we never thought of this before.”

Zelda stroked her chin thoughtfully. “The selection would have to be careful, yet impartial… But it could work.”

They all looked at her with an impressed air and a sense of pride echoed through the Trainer. Maybe she wouldn’t have to look far to spread the words of the Center after all.

* * *

The echo of royal heels vanished as the two women exited the quiet embassy building and reached the busy front steps. A few tourists gasped, pointed, and took pictures. Others missed them and continued their examinations of the outside statues. Cars zipped by on the street, with the occasional youthful face peering from the windows in awe.

“Well I thought we made a lot of progress today.”

Zelda hummed in what Lucina assumed was agreement.

“The Galactic Federation will likely have to send a new representative, given recent events in their area of space. Perhaps they might send a more military presence this time around.”

Another vague hum.

“Of course, we might have to cut back on some of our own fighters here and there.”

“Yes, yes.”

“Your knight will no doubt stay though. I believe he and the Princess have enjoyed quite a few training sessions alone together.”

Zelda whipped toward Lucina. “Excuse me?” Her voice was dangerously low.

A rare, mischievous grin crept up Lucina’s face. “Oh, so you _are_ paying attention?”

Zelda’s shoulders relaxed and she allowed her own smile. “A joke? From you? Now I’ve seen everything.”

“Too much time around my fellow soldiers, I’ll admit. What were you thinking about?”

Zelda stopped on the embassy steps and gazed back at the building. “Interesting girl, that... Traynor.”

“She speaks a little strangely, but I found her input very helpful.”

“She’s a little quiet.”

“But when she did speak, she spoke wisely.”

Zelda hummed again. “I suppose it did appear that way. When you’re searching for the right words.”

Lucina raised an eyebrow, attempting to read Zelda’s expression. But before she could reach any sort of understanding, a smile plastered on the Hyrule ruler’s face.

“I think I’d like to talk to her more later.”

“You aren’t the only one. To be perfectly honest, I’m rather new to this ruling business. Yet I believe understanding the words of the non-royals like Miss Traynor is essential for us.”

“As long as you’re actually hearing what they say, I think you’re on the right track. We’ll talk later, yes?”

Lucina shook away her puzzled expression before bowing politely. “Of course. Have a good day, your majesty.”

“You enjoy yourself as well, your highness.”

Both princesses went on their way, in separate directions. But both spent their journey puzzling over their own private thoughts.

Lucina ruminated on Zelda’s strange behavior. It seemed to be brought on by the appearance of Miss Traynor. What could be so alarming about that? Peach, generous as always, taking the time to help the poor woman she’d hurt. It happened to be a lovely turn of events that Traynor turned out to be so helpful and...

It really was _quite_ a coincidence, the longer she thought about it. A rather suspicious coincidence.


	4. A Rising Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Trainer's name is heard in more ears.

**Princess Peach Toadstool was a highly popular ruler for a number of reasons.**

For one example, she was a financial genius without equal. The Mushroom Kingdom’s economy flourished under her rule. In fact, during one notable kidnapping involving the Beanbean Kingdom, in which she was unable to send her typical advice back home, the Kingdom had its worst financial disaster in decades. Upon her return, it was fixed within hours.

More important, however, was her extraordinary emphasis on diplomacy. Even after repeated kidnappings throughout the years, she had refused to increase the national military budget and extended offers of peace to neighboring countries. King Bowser Koopa of the Koopa Kingdom was a regular visitor to the local sports tournaments and generally allowed her to send messages to the kingdom and her rescuers.

She was also absurdly kind and transparent. She made the laws of the land very clear and strove to ensure everyone was treated fairly. The public was keenly aware of what their ruler was or was not capable of doing or where the country was currently directed, which she aimed to make clear in every public announcement.

If the princess happened to be free, reporters would gather for a summary of upcoming events, bills in development, or a standard Q&A session. The affair was relaxed and friendly, more like a meeting between friends than a monarch talking to reporters. The Princess would share cake recipes or provide tea and reporters would chat about their personal lives to the attentive ears of the monarch. It was so casual, in fact, it had never been officially placed on the Princess’s schedule. The schedule was generally very loose already, owing largely to the increasing expectation of another kidnapping. Announcements of these meetings were typically announced within a day or so before they took place. Few could remember how the had begun and the meetings were so pleasant, no one wanted to question it. The “Direct Conversations with Princess Peach” (or the Direct, as it was so often shortened) meetings didn’t need any excitement shaking the boat.

In the lead-up to the June tournament, however, the meetings began to take on an atmosphere of expectation and high tension. The public craved news on the upcoming Smash Tournament and the reporters were grasping for anything information they could get their hands on. Peach was reluctant to divulge what measures and changes she would propose in order to prevent the tournament from getting dull.

But the time had come for the Princess to step forward and revealed her grand plan for the future of the tournaments.

In her speech, the Princess Peach Toadstool reassured the public that there would be a few major changes to the tournament, enough to keep the event interesting but enough similarities to ensure the tournament’s main purpose of bringing countries together didn’t fall away.

The announcement was met with thunderous applause: tournament applications would be opened to the public. The process would be very selective and only a few would be able to enter. However, applicants that didn’t make it to the final selection could enter the ring as an Assist Fighter or provide bonuses and support to their favorite fighter.

The Princess credited these new aspects of the tournament to her dear friend Traynor, who had suggested these brilliant measures during their discussions.

“Allowing the people of the world to exercise their right to meet new people and show what they’re capable of is the most valuable thing I can offer with our humble tournament.”

It was here, in the context of Princess Peach’s speech, that Wii Fit Trainer first came to the attention of the news media and entered the public light.

* * *

The Wii Fit Trainer rubbed her leg in consideration. Dr. Toadley had finally given her permission to remove the “band-dages” and walk around on her feet. Her skin was still strangely discolored and stung if she pressed on it. But she could walk and, more importantly, exercise.

She attempted a Single Leg Twist. Pain shot up her right calf and she collapsed onto the ground.

She climbed to her feet, her balance wavering. She began to lift her right leg before setting it down, relenting to the forces of pain.

Time for a deep breath exercise. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Slower. Calmer. Relax your stomach after exhaling to let the air back in your nose. Just like that.

Content with her balance, the Trainer decided to skip the Single Leg Twist today. She needed to focus on other exercises.

The Balance Board would understand, an unusually emotional thought echoed in her head.

This thought repeated itself during the series of failed exercises to follow.

Eventually, a balance bridge guided her to the correct movements. These movements, minus a slight pain, allowed her body to retrain itself appropriately.

In the afternoon, just before the Trainer transformed herself into a Jackknife for the twenty-fourth time that hour, a Toad scampered through the doorway.

“I have Kylie Koopa on the line for you, ma’am! From the Koopa Kronicle!”

He held out an object toward her expectantly. She stared at the creature for a moment. He made such loud noises with his mouth. Could he be trying to exercise his throat?

“THE KOOPA KRONICLE,” she repeated in a loud, booming voice. She could feel her throat vibrate, but not in any particularly effective manner.

“That’s right!” The Toad seemed emboldened by her response. “They want to ask you some questions, I think!”

Oh, so someone wanted her exercise advice. She normally preferred to answer those questions during a meeting, but perhaps just this once she would make an allowance.

“I would be happy to speak to them.”

The Toad continued to push the object in her direction, gesturing to it pointedly. Maybe he was being coy and was asking for a personal demonstration? Its best to lead by example in situations like this. She stretched her arm forward, only for the Toad to place the object in her hands.

The Trainer only had a chance to puzzle about this action for a moment before a faint voice came from the device. Curious, she lifted it closer to her ear experimentally.

“-ello? Are you still there?”

The object was _talking_ to her. What a truly baffling place this world was.

Feeling it rude to not look her conversationalist in the eye, she positioned the object across from her face, staring at the little holes on its head. Or was that its bottom? It was really difficult to figure out its shape. No wonder it wanted her advice.

“Hello. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Oh, are you Miss Traynor?” A woman’s voice, a little faint granted, but still there nonetheless.

“Correct.”

“Well dang! This is Kylie Koopa, Ace Reporter for the Koopa Kronicle! I was hopin’ to ask ya some questions.”

“Offering effective advice is my job.”

The voice hummed in interest. “Consultant work, eh? How long have you been a consultant?”

“My whole life.”

“Innnnnteresting. Your expertise?”

“Training.”

The voice seemed to approve. “Can you tell me more about your clients?”

Clients? She hadn’t seen any in months.

“I have nothing to say about my trainees.”

An odd noise. “You part on bad terms then?”

“I have nothing to say about my trainees.”

“Of course, of course. Let’s talk about the present. How much influence would you say you have with the Princess?”

The Trainer stared at the object for a few moments. Dare she show her ignorance?

“....Which one?”

There was silence.

“Hello?”

“Y-yes, sorry ma’am, I just… wasn’t… wow. That’s…. Wow.”

The voice didn’t seem disapproving, but there was a strange tone to it now. Trainer wasn’t sure she gave the right answer.

“What then, precisely is your relationship with the Princesses at this point?”

“I think you should ask the Princesses that.”

“Indeed. But I was unsure if I would be able to reach them, so I’m talking to you. What can you tell me about your conversation with them that Princess Peach was referring to?”

“I enjoyed it very much.”

Silence. “There’s been some discussion that you might be earning a position among Princess Peach’s staff. Do you wish to comment on that?”

Not really. “No I do not.”

“...Well, is there anything about your background I can-”

This conversation was immensely lacking in physical benefit, the Trainer decided and she didn’t feel quite the same need to be polite to this strange object than she did to Princess Peach. “I have nothing more to say.”

She quietly placed the object back into the Toad’s hand and returned to her exercises.

The next day, the Koopa Kronicle published a brief article on the Wii Fit Trainer. Without much information to go on, it kept to vague descriptions of the Trainer’s intellect and clear experience behind the scenes of the political world.

The fame of the Wii Fit Trainer quickly grew as the registration process for the tournament began.

* * *

In a dark gutter on a gloomy street on a raining day, a man was dead. It wasn't that big a deal, he had a 1-Up insurance plan set up just for emergencies like this. He'd be back on his feet soon enough. But he would be missing his delivery and would probably be fired quickly afterwards.

He should have expected it, to some degree. He had information, which other people wanted desperately. His bosses wanted the information, his boss' enemies in the other countries wanted the information, and the place he stole the information from in the first place wanted the information.

The issue was he had never been clear who each of those people were. He had held in his hands one of the most sought pieces of technological information in the world for three days. And he didn't even know the name of his own boss. He never would now. Because of how fired he would be, not because of being temporarily dead, of course.

The woman who killed him was far better off. She had obtained priceless information for her own fearless leader and would soon be handsomely rewarded. If she was quick, he could be informed and prepared for this new event on the political scene before his journey to the tournament began.

Their enemies would figure out the reason for the man's death soon enough. Those foul, high-class cretins always knew everything about the great king's plans. But it was of little consequence. The woman knew that the King would be victorious. He was destined to be powerful from the day he was born.

The Gerudo woman couldn't imagine anything that could halt the progress of the King of Darkness.


	5. Ballots Entered and Invitations Sent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While the Trainer trains, the other players begin to enter the scene.

**Ballots by the thousands** flooded the Smash offices from applicants across the galaxy. Anybody and everybody wanted a chance to gain glory and prestige among legends. Heroes, royalty, and various ambassadors had been the primary occupants of the tournament. A peaceful truce was guaranteed among particularly contentious political relationships. Much as the people of Hyrule detested the man known as Ganon, his representation in the tournament on behalf of the Gerudo was essential for diplomatic relations.

Bizarre stories and adventures tended to follow those who were accepted into the tournaments. Everyone loved a good origin story. In this particular year, among the wide and varied requests from the public, there were a few incidents of note.

* * *

The clerk squinted at the ID in puzzlement.

“Your name is... Kyle Drool?”

“THAT’S THE NAME DON’T WEAR IT OUT!”

The man shoving the paper into the clerk’s face was of a size unparalleled. He towered over the clerk with the girth of twenty goombas and the height of one and a half Bowsers. His teeth were as sharp as knives, his eye tinged red with wild glee. These were all signs of a bonafide villain.

On the other hand, he was also standing on a skateboard and wearing a baseball cap backwards. The clerk may suspect there was a crown underneath that cap, but the evidence before her eyes suggested this could also just be a fine, upstanding lad. And it seemed rude to judge someone based on their appearance.

“...How old are you, precisely?”

“I’M JUST A REGULAR OL' KID, TRYING TO MAKE IT BIG IN THIS WILD WORLD. SO PUT ME IN THE SMASH THING!”

The clerk furrowed her brow at Kyle Drool once again.

Kyle did a kickflip standing still on his skateboard.

Well, that was convincing enough for her. She quickly stamped the Smash form and added it to the pile

And K. Rool grinned a sickeningly wide crocodile grin.

* * *

Samus Aran hated fighting. It was long. It was exhausting. It cost things. But, well. She was good at fighting and when you’re good at something, its best to do what it takes to pay the bills. The Galactic Federation paid a pretty penny for her services and that allowed her to get whatever food and fuel she needed to keep progressing through space. The rest of her credits went to whatever civilians needed it.

Recent events made it... somewhat less simple for her to gain the same payment she could before.

For now though, she could afford to simply sleep off the wounds of her last job. Which was somewhat interrupted by the sudden buzz of her comm system.

Brushing her eyes and groaning against the back of her chair, she swiped a few keys of her dashboard pull up the information.

“explain” read the one word text.

She squinted at the word in utter bafflement before she finally processed from exactly where this text was coming from.

“Explain what?” She responded.

A picture loaded onto her screen. A poster of last year’s tournament, which she had reluctantly done a quick photo shoot for. She would have preferred to take the photos in her armor, but the journalists had been pretty clear about what they wanted.

“I see you’ve linked me a photo of myself and not answered my question.”

“what the heck are those on your feet”

Ah. This again. “Rocket boots.”

“what. i’ve been asking for rocket boots for years. how come you get rocket boots?”

“I built them.”

“for me?”

“Do you really think they’d fit you Cap.”

“you have the tech.”

“Chozo tech. Very rare and very mine.”

“i’ll pay you.”

“Are you really serious about this?”

“when would i ever not be serious about rocket boots.”

Sweet mercy.

“i’m begging you, at least just for one tournament. its not like you’ll need them.”

Oh that was right, wasn’t it? The Smash tournament would be coming fairly soon, wouldn’t it? She supposed a few interviews or autographs would put some comfortable change in her account.

...But that could be an issue. She was currently persona non grata by the Galactic Federation. Too many arguments, too many fights, and one particularly notable instance of disobeying orders. The Federation had made their opinions of the bounty hunter very firm on this point. No more jobs, no more representing the Federation, and no more not getting fired with bullets the moment she entered their eyesight.

Well, she was never attached to the tournaments much anyway. She’d enjoyed meeting all the friendly fighters and so on, but the tournament herself wasn’t quite to her taste.

Still. She was curious. Turning on her signal, she let the local papers download to her server. Just to catch a bit of gossip and see who the Federation planned to send this time around. Fox was back in business it seemed, Falcon returning as well. Some new fighters, that certainly looked promising.

Her eyes finally reached the passage detailing the Galactic Federation’s representative. A new pet project from their labs. Repurposed for noble intentions.

Those absolute morons. Those dense hypocrites. Those lying _buffoons._

Samus immediately shifted the ship into blast-off, speeding off towards the first planet where the tournament would be held.

She wouldn’t let him get away again.

* * *

The clerk returned to her station anxiously. “Sorry for the wait- I’m having trouble finding your identification? Its kind of a funny mistake,” she giggled. “The only name I could find that matched was from several hundred years ago.”

“That is me, yes.”

The clerk blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“I am Simon Belmont. I was born under a summer moon in 1669. I died some years later. Now I am back to finally put evil to rest.” The blonde man spoke with a confident and matter-a-fact tone.

“Oh, I see.” The clerk fished through some documents before she reached over the desk with all her tiny height to wave a series of papers in the man’s face. “Well, then you need to fill out this form first before I can submit your application.”

The man gripped the paper in his strong, scarred hands. “I will do what I must to enter this competition. My prey is protected by civilians, and I cannot allow it to escape while innocents surround it.”

“That’s nice of you!”

He waved a hand. “It is the right thing to do. As a member of the Belmont family tree, it is my sacred duty to defeat evil wherever it may be!”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll be a shoe-in for the competition.”

“Thank you, strange creature. Tell me, what is this ‘W-1-Up form?’”

“Oh, well if your descendants were given an estate tax, you may be entitled to some compensation for your troubles, along with some health benefits and other privileges.”

“How fascinating…”

* * *

It was a dark alley. Dirty, filled with trash, forgotten by even those who lacked shelter in the evenings. Perfect for certain purposes.

The first man had been waiting for a few minutes now before the second arrived. They sized each other up, confirming this was the individual they had come to meet. The second man pulled out a small cigarette box. He opened up the flap and retrieved his small slice of rolled tobacco. The second man retrieved one for himself before lighting both of their smokes. The two enjoyed a few moments of silence before they got to business.

“We have a new mission for you, soldier.”

“I thought we agreed I was retired.”

“Its serious.”

“It’s always serious. Find someone else.”

“Only you can do it.”

“And why is that?”

“It’s a tournament matter.”

“I thought the powers that be didn’t want me in that anymore.”

“They’re willing to overlook it, this time.”

“Hmph. And why’s that, Colonel?”

“The White House is concerned about this… Traynor. Hell, forces higher than the president are concerned about her.”

“Traynor?”

“She’s the latest fighter in the tournament. She’s gotten quite close to the head of the Mushroom Kingdom.”

“Why would a new fighter concern the politicians back home? If its a control issue, I’m sure it could be easily handled.”

“That’s just the thing… they haven’t been able to turn up much about her.”

“What?”

“Where she comes from, what ideologies she follows… its a complete mystery. She appeared out of nowhere under the wheel of the local royalty’s car.”

“That’s impossible. Everyone has at least some kind of paper trail.”

“Not this woman. And that’s not all… A man died getting us what miniscule information we have obtained.”

“What?!”

“You heard me. That’s why they want you to investigate it.”

The soldier grimaced. “...That doesn’t quite sound like my expertise, Colonel. And it’s hard to believe that they’d be willing to forgive my… recent actions.”

“They’re desperate. They don’t know how to handle not having info at all. You’re their only avenue to get close to this Traynor. They’ll forget about your whistleblowing, for now, in the interest of information.”

The Colonel’s features softened in an attempt to ease the tension. “You know I wouldn’t bring this to you if I wasn’t sure they were going to keep their word.”

Hmph. The soldier didn’t like it. But if it got them off his back for at least a little while…

“Alright. What do you have for me?”

The Colonel handed over a folder. “This is what little intelligence we’ve managed to gather. The bits that weren’t snatched up and classified by people higher in command, of course. But they did give us this. Our analysts seem to think its a code.”

The soldier opened it wide. Inside was a single blank page.

“Are you kidding me, Colonel?”

“I wouldn’t joke in times like this. Although I can’t be sure we aren’t being toyed with ourselves.”

“Hmph. Any particular code name you have lined up for me?”

“They’re would be little point in this case, I should think.”

Solid Snake tossed his cigarette off into a corner and began to take his leave from the alley. Perhaps he could see Campbell’s point, in this case.

* * *

It took weeks of tireless work but finally, the clerk could enjoy some rest. It was hard work and someone had to do it, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t exhausting by the end of it all. Still, it was fulfilling to help out the entire galaxy find a method of peaceful, albeit also horrifically violent, cooperation.

Stepping into her home, she idly glimpsed through her mail, opening up some official looking envelope and skimmed through the contents to-

“For your extensive diligence in working for the Smash Tournament process, the Board of Smash Fighters have decided to give **Isabelle** the opportunity to enter the Smash tournament itself. If you choose to deny this opportunity, you can instead recommend someone else you wish to see in the tournament. Thank you for your service in this matter.”

Several important signatures listed the bottom.

Oh. Oh goodness.

The last thing Isabelle saw was the official stamp of approval on the form, right before her eyes rolled back and she hit the ground.

* * *

“Well, I think we’ve built up quite a selection this time.” Peach slowly spun her spoon around in the cup.

“Its really incredible what you’ve done here, Peach!” Daisy smiled. “The Board has always been so strict in their selection. I can’t believe you managed to convince them to expand it like this.”

“Well, I can’t really take the credit. It was really Traynor’s idea.”

“So it would seem.” Zelda smiled a diplomatic smile as she sipped on her own drink. Lucina’s eyes darted between the princesses. There was a game here that was being played, but she couldn’t figure out what it was.

“Speaking of which,” Lucina finally ventured. “How is Miss Traynor doing? Healing well enough?”

“Ah, she seemed in high spirits. She pushes herself rather hard. As soon as she was able to walk again, she’s been in the gym almost constantly.”

“Goodness. Such determination. I wonder where she gets it from.” Even Peach was starting to catch a weird tone to Zelda’s responses, frowning slightly.

“You know….” Daisy spun a spoon around in her hand idly. “She’s pretty athletic. Not to mention pretty good with diplomacy. She’d be a pretty good fit in the tournament.”

“I… beg your pardon?” Zelda’s relaxed expression vanished, utter bafflement on her face.

“Oh, what a wonderful idea!” Peach clapped her hands together. “It’s the least we can do for all her help.”

“Well, I’m not quite sure about that.” Lucina could spot a bead of sweat trailing down Zelda’s forehead. “I mean, we barely know anything about this woman. Where does she come from? Where do her allegiances lie?”

“Allegiances?” Peach blinked in utter, perfect, naive confusion. “She was hit with my car. What do allegiances have to do with anything?”

Lucina wasn’t exactly one skilled in political games, but she knew when it was time to push in order to gain some information.

“I don’t think I see any harm in entering her in the competition. If you have some kind of concern regarding Traynor, Princess Zelda, I’m sure the information will emerge quickly. Unless there’s something specific you think we should know.”

Zelda glanced at each of the women in the room hesitantly before leaning back into her chair. “No, I… I suppose there’s no harm.”

“Then it’s settled!” Peach grinned one of her radiant smiles. “Traynor will be the next of our little fellowship to join the ranks.”

Daisy shrugged. “Fine by me. There’s always next time.”

“Next ti- Daisy, you have checked your mail, right?”

“....Should I have?”

The brunch continued as usual from there.

* * *

“Zelda- do you mind if we talk privately for a moment?”

The Hyrulian princess paused with her hand at the door, glancing back at her friend. Peach’s hands were fiddling with themselves and her eyes were on the floor. “Of course, my friend. Is something troubling you?”

The blonde sighed, allowing herself a moment to slump into her chair. Peach rarely did anything without proper posture. The sight was difficult to process.

“I’ve been working on the final slots of the tournament and… I received a message from an old friend of ours.”

Zelda tilted her head, curiously. Perhaps it was time to be bold with her suspicions. Calculated moves could only go so far without some chance sacrifices. “Someone hoping to enter the tournament? I assume the arrangement for the Trainer’s placement in the tournament.”

“Traynor? What does she have to do with this?”

…Dammit. “Ah, my mistake. Someone else then? Perhaps Mayor Pauline, then?”

“No, someone who wants to return to the tournament.”

Zelda returned to her seat across from her friend. “Well, I’m sure they’re well aware that they’re free to return once again.”

Peach sighed. “That’s just the thing. I’m not sure she _is_ free to return.”

“Ah. Some sort of injury then?”

“More like… a criminal charge.”

Zelda had to take a private moment to curse the Triforce of Wisdom for seemingly failing her so often. It really should be more useful than it ended up being. But really now, she expected much more from the bounty hunter.

“This is… Samus we’re talking about. She certainly knows better than to go right where the Galactic Federation will be looking, won’t she?”

“That’s what I assumed. But she’s insisting that she’ll be here within the day.”

“...Oh goodness.” That was… a significant wrench in things. “Did she offer a reason? Of any kind?”

“She just said it was important to her.”

Another thing for her agents to look into, Zelda noted to herself. “I assume you know how the Federation will react once they learn that their most wanted criminal is here.”

Peach’s fingers were practically tied in a knot. “But I can’t simply… abandon her. She needs our help. She’s our _friend_. I mean, I can’t believe any of the things they’re claiming. There must be some misunderstanding.”

Zelda paused, choosing her words carefully. “I don’t know if that much matters to them.”

“But maybe, if we could uncover the truth-”

“We can, and will, search as much as we like. But they will still want to capture her regardless. It’s a matter of galactic embarrassment to them.” She reached forward to put a more comforting presence on Peach’s hand. “They’ll put their foot down, on this one.”

Peach stared back at Zelda, then down at her hands again. “But… I _can’t_ leave her. I can’t. I… I feel disgusting just thinking about it. Like there’s this awful, horrible pit in my stomach, eating away.”

...by the Goddesses. She really had been getting cynical. It was easy for her, with the power of Wisdom flowing through her, to see all the angles. All the political sides, all the little secrets, and all the little pieces moving on a board. She always forgot, somewhere down the road, that not everyone was playing the same game as her.

It occurred to Zelda that perhaps Peach didn’t know what she knew about the Trainer after all. But the thought vanished quickly. How could she not know, if she was so eager to put the woman in the tournament?

Either way, that game had to wait. There were more important things to consider.

“She reached over to place a hand onto Peach's. "My friend… if you’re willing to take the risks, then I think you have to do what your heart says.”

Peach looked up in surprise, a wave of relief already shimmering down her entire body.

“You really think it’s alright, then? To give her asylum? Even if it puts the Kingdom at risk?”

She smiled at her friend. “I don’t think you could live with yourself if you didn’t.”

Peach giggled. “I suppose not, no.”

“Did you really need me to tell you that though?” It seemed to Zelda that her mind was already made up.

Peach considered. “I think I just… needed to know it was okay.”

“Then, even with the risks, I think its okay.”

The two princesses smiled and laughed with each other, a quiet tension evaporating at last. It would be nice, Zelda supposed, to have Samus in the tournament again. Political consequences aside... she just plain liked the woman. She was tough, virtuous, and made the decisions few else could make. How much could things change with someone like her around?

The pieces of the board moved a few spots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna be honest, I have absolutely no plans to do anything with K Rool. But he's fun and I couldn't resist giving him a cameo. The rest of the characters here will be significantly more important.
> 
> Metroid Fusion is a game that really needs a sequel and might not get one. Its thrilling to imagine what happens to Samus after that particular adventure though, and that's where this version of Samus is at. Snake, meanwhile, is... well, placing Smash in Snake's timeline is always an impossible task, but let's say he's taking place between Metal Gear Solid 2 and 4. I'm trying to avoid too much reliance on those stories for this however. I can imagine it would be frustrating to read a Wii Fit Trainer fanfic and have to do research if you aren't fans of those franchises. For now, all you have to know is that Samus is possibly maybe a fugitive.
> 
> Also, while I didn't make it myself, check out [this comic](http://smashmansion.tumblr.com/post/86719825661/hes-you-know-hell-show-up-when-he-wants-to) on tumblr, for no particular reason.


	6. Media Frenzy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Trainer discovers television.

**As she trained her typical routine, the Trainer found herself interrupted frequently.** Toads and secretaries and clerks of all measures would race into her room, carrying that strange device in their arms. Each time, the voice of the device changed slightly. The pitch of their voice, the words they chose, and even their names differed drastically between conversations. One time, the object even claimed to be Princess Lucina, who the Trainer had met previously with Peach. The Trainer was beginning to suspect these were different people entirely. The Toads all looked the same, perhaps all these small fellows operated under the same principles.

The conversations were very strange. Lucina, for example, spoke at length about "inspiring troops" and "providing leadership asked about the Trainer's background provided her these things. So, she thought back on her training room. When students looked at her, they could also look at the mirror behind her. She supposed, to the students, the mirror was the background.

"Reflection." She told the Lucina Object. It was the simplest way to describe it.

After a long silence, the device responded. "How incredible... I just need to examine myself in order to give them what they need. Thank you, very much, Miss Traynor."

This was the pattern of several of the conversations with the object. They would ask her questions and she would answer, to the present of her ability.

"Build our core?" said the so-introduced Yoshi object. "Yes, perhaps moving closer to the lake in preparation for the coming drought could help our island. Thank you very much, Miss Traynor."

Even stranger, one deep, serious voice rambled at length in variety of words she didn't know. Not wishing to alarm the client, she quickly said: "Understood."

"Excellent," said the voice. "Continue your operations. Let no one suspect otherwise."

Then the familiar beep of the end of a conversation echoed back through the object. The Trainer almost felt insulted. At least the other voices said goodbye.

* * *

It was in one of these irritating conversations that the voice said something that caught her attention. “Listen, Miss Traynor, I’m sure you’ve given quotes to a lot of people. Why don’t you come down to the studio, talk to us in person?”

“In… person.” How fascinating. Could these devices transform into human beings?

“Yeah! People are eager to meet the latest Smash contestant and friend of the princesses. Getting a look at you and what you’re all about is what folks are really craving these days. And, in all honesty, our planned guest was unable to make it. It would be a great help if you could fill the time.”

“I understand.” She did not understand. But that would be admitting a weakness and it was easier to just repeat what other people said.

“So you’ll meet?”

“Yes. Eager to meet”

“Wonderful! Why don’t you come on down at seven? Its a live program, so we’ll send a car for you at six. That’ll give us plenty of time to prepare”

“Yes. At six.”

“Perfect! See you then!”

There was a familiar click from the device that signaled to the Trainer that the conversation was over.

* * *

She was interrupted once again when the smaller hand of the clock had moved past several notches. A Toad arrived and escorted her to the front of the castle. She had yet to visit the Outside again during her stay in the castle and was stunned to see the change of the light. Somehow, the giant light-bulb up in the rafters of the Outside had lowered. As a result, the brightness of the outside had dimmed considerably, the light-bulb sitting comfortably somewhere in the far off distance. She was unclear where, exactly, it was sitting or how it had been moved or even how it was still operable when not hanging in the ceiling.

Before she could ponder these problems, the side of one of the hulking beasts that had hurt her so many weeks ago was opened wide. The Toad gestured to the insides of the beast. She knelt down to look inside, curiously. The beast was empty of any organs. In fact, there seemed to be another couch inside, with just enough room for people to sit inside of it. She looked at the Toad. The Toad smiled. Reluctantly, she stepped into the beast.

The opening was resealed behind her before she could react. A flash of panic overtook her, images of remaining still and slothful forever pounding in her brain. She clawed where the opening once was, only for the beast to lurch forward. She could feel herself lurching along with it. While from the outside the beast appeared impenetrable, she could see the Outside moving past. The beast hummed and shook, but as far as she could tell the digestive process had yet to begin. Perhaps it considered food a waste of time. Some common ground was welcome in the midst of this terror.

After a short period of time, the beast reached to a complete stop once again. The beast’s side was opened again and another face smiled down at her.

“Miss Traynor, right? We’re so glad to have you here.”

She stumbled inelegantly Outside, resting a hand on the side of the beast to balance herself. Across from her was a Toad and an unfamiliar figure sitting perched on what appeared to be a giant puff ball.

“Oh goodness- are you feeling alright? The car ride wasn't bumpy, was it?” The Toad’s face was a perfect picture of concern.

“I am always healthy.”

“Oh, good. We wouldn’t want you to get carsick or anything before the interview.”

“I am never sick.”

“...Golly! Maybe someone else could borrow your health plan, if you aren't using it!”

They moved forward towards the building before the Trainer could do just that. Without much else to do, the Trainer followed them obediently. They pushed through the door, under a giant yellow sign that proudly displayed the “Kingdom News Network” brand.

“Our make-up man can do a few quick touch-ups before you go live-” He glanced over the Trainer again. “Well.. perhaps more than a few touch-ups, but I’m sure he can handle it. And our host, by the way, would be honored to meet you before the show goes on.”

The Trainer glanced at her surroundings, desperately trying to form some sort of impression. Framed pictures scattered the walls, some small bits of text here and there. Lots of people and Toads and floating creatures left and right. She was escorted to a large adjoining office and offered a drink. She refused, of course. Who needed liquids when you had exercise? The Koopa they referred to as the Host emerged quickly, although she was unfamiliar with whatever he hosted. She listened politely to his rambling, nodding every so often when it seemed appropriate.

Eventually, the Host left the room and the Toad and the Make-Up Man returned and placed the Trainer in front of a mirror. Brown powder was sprinkled around her face. Unsure how to react, the Trainer opted to remain completely motionless.

“Have you appeared on television a lot?” asked the Make-Up Man.

What an unusual question. She decided to venture forth with something one of her students had said once. “No. I hear it rots the brain.”

The Make-Up Man and the Toad laughed as they finished their work.

Within minutes, she was once again left alone in a new room. A strange black mirror sat against the wall. In the middle of her examination, it burst to life. She stumbled backward as the sound of cheers and hands hitting hands and stomps of feet echoed around the room. The Host appeared, waving and bowing and generally behaving with a general sense of self-satisfaction. How had he gotten stuck into that tiny thing?

“Host?” She attempted. “Would you like to work on toning your ab muscles?”

The Host failed to respond, so she decided to show him the Jack-Knife regardless.

“First, form a v shape at the first whist-”

“-And what a show we have for you, ladies and gentlemen! Our guests tonight-”

“...Now up and do-”

“Not much is known about this new participant in the tournament, but she seems to be a trusted friend of the Princesses and that’s good enough for us!”

No matter what she said, the Host paid her no mind. They spoke at each other, but they did not talk to each other. The sounds of laughter and applause seemed to approve, however, so the Trainer continued her exercises for their benefit.

“Ma’am?” The Toad reappeared, a puzzled expression on his face. An odd sense of discomfort rumbled in her stomach.

“I was completing my exercises.”

“Oh- how profound! I haven’t seen any celebrities do that!”

“Working at exercise every day will tone your abs.”

The Toad’s eyes were bright with excitement. “Abs?”

Perhaps repeating words was common after all. “Abs.”

“Wow… I’ve never had abs before…” His eyes were lost in a world of possibilities before he shook himself back to form. “A-anyway! Its time to begin!”

Ah, perhaps this little one was who she was supposed to train. She stood up and followed him through several rooms. They reached a heavy curtain and the Trainer could hear the voice of Host yet again.

“Without further ado, let me introduce to you… Miss Traynor!”

The curtains parted slightly and the Trainer was hit with the glare of lights. She squinted through them, stepping out onward into the bright. She could see the audience now, but she couldn’t make out individual faces. The only assurance she had of their presence was the hoops and hollers and claps emanating from beyond the lights. Shapes and bodies moved about in this hulking mass of noise and energy. Strange boxes of metal surrounded the stage, dangling in the air in the hands of the floating turtle men.

To her right was the Host, a bright smile plastered on his face, standing with dignity and poise. Desperate for a somewhat familiar face, she approached him quickly. He offered his hand, as others had before, and she grabbed it and shook it, as others had done before. He seemed pleased with this greeting and sat down in his chair behind the desk. Reluctantly, she imitated the movement, sitting across from him.

“I’m glad to have you with us, Miss Traynor, if I may call you that.”

She completed a nodding exercise. Perhaps this would be a good time for a deep breathing exercise. She couldn’t explain it, but she was suddenly feeling short of breath.

“I’m sure the millions of viewers from Kingdoms around the world are eager to meet you as well.”

She froze mid-breath. “Millions?” Numbers were a concept the Trainer was familiar with. She had once spent a whole studentless day attempting to see how many push-up exercises she could complete. Even she had never managed to reach a million. She couldn't imagine a million people, cramped together in one room.

“That’s right! I’d say our ratings are doing pretty well, all things considered!”

She heard the Host chuckle and the audience laughed with him. She tried to count the voices and while there was certainly a good number of them, there certainly wasn't a million.

The Trainer was suddenly struck with an unusual sensation. A tingling in her brain. As though pieces of an image were clicking together in her mind. A _realization._ Just moments ago, the Host had appeared on the mirror, talking to her and her alone. The image reflected what she was experiencing now, with a desk and a stage and loud noises aplenty. There was no possibility that the Host could have traveled from the mirror to the stage quick enough to beat her there. The only possible conclusion, no matter how impossible it might seem, is that the black mirror was a way for the Host to appear before the Trainer.

If that was possible, it seemed equally likely that someone else, through the black mirror, was watching the Trainer now as well.

If there was more than one black mirror, more than one person could be watching the Trainer right now.

Millions of persons could be watching the Trainer right now.

The idea of reaching so many students would normally fill the Trainer with glee. Informing proper exercise habits was her entire purpose in life. Yet, somehow, this moment stole away her enthusiasm rather than support it. Thought began to drain from her mind. Her movements, her exercises, all things that were unique to her, no longer felt her own. They were things anyone in this world could observe and take for themselves, without any input from her own hands-on experiences. They would never meet her or learn from her, but they would have that image of her for themselves. Every essence of her, every piece of her, was being taken and lost and absorbed into the world with every second. Her moments in her old gym, transforming into things old and new, suddenly paled in comparison.

What would be left, when all was stripped away?

The Host was talking again, and the Trainer had to fight and claw her way back into the real world to hear his words.

“-a dangerous injury. But you seem to be in pretty good shape, all things considered.”

“Y-yes.” This she recognized. “It is important to work hard every day to maintain your physical abilities.”

He nodded politely, smile still strong on his face. “Miss Traynor, let’s get to brass tacks here. I want to be perfectly frank.”

She nodded at Perfectly Frank. “I understand.”

“We’ve heard lots of rumors about this year’s Smash tournament. And I understand you were on Princess Peach’s little council of advisers this time. So I ask you: do we really need these tournaments?”

There was silence. She could feel them on her. Crawling on her skin, her brain, her life. Eyes everywhere, eyes watching, waiting, anticipating. All on her.

“I don’t understand.”

Perfectly Frank humphed, eyebrow raised. “It seems to me, and to many of of our viewers, that the Smash project has _failed_. The universe is just as divided as it is before, if not more so! The Princess’s view, in which she said-” he shuffled through some papers on his desk. “‘Allowing the people of the world to exercise their right to meet new people and show what they’re capable of is the most valuable thing I can offer with our humble tournament.’”

He set down the papers dramatically. “Can you really say that the tournaments are doing _anything_ to better the global political state of affairs?”

That’s right. Exercise. This is what she was here to do. All the eyes on her, with the Board counting on her. The message of fitness had to be spread.

Deep breath exercise. Inhale. Exhale.

“Exercise is essential to the human condition,” she said firmly. “I have spent my entire life focusing on exercising many things. Exercise helps us maintain balance. That balance aids every facet of the body. Without balance, people are unsteady and unhealthy.”

There was a series of claps from the crowd. Then an explosion of applause, followed by a sputtering of boos and hisses. The Trainer glanced around, eyes reaching another mirror, reflecting her own face. It provided her comfort, for a second, seeing her reflection once again, like in her training room. Then the mirror rapidly shifted to show the faces of the audience. Some were pleased, others were insistently angry.

Perfectly Frank waited for the noise to die down, a tinge of frustration on his lips. “Even so, Miss Traynor, that was very well put, but I think the people are tired of being forced to endure such unsavory characters as those residing from Koopa Kingdom or other such countries. Let us not forget, the Galactic Federation’s own candidate, Samura Aran, has become a fugitive from the law. Are these the sort of people we want to be associating with our princesses? This _balance_ , as you’ve so phrased it, hasn’t seemed to have turned up many benefits for ourselves.”

“The body cannot survive, without maintaining balance. While it is important to stretch only as far as you feel comfortable, you still need to stretch every day. Focus on keeping your balance steady.”

Perfectly Frank’s expression of astonishment was lost in the uproarious applause that popped into the air. She could see the shapes of creatures aplenty standing in the audience, clapping their hands together or shouting or whistling or pointing their fingers at her.

Perfectly Frank lifted a hand to calm the crowd before returning to the conversation at hand. He continued to ask some questions about herself, the Princesses, a "tournament," and more about balance. She answered to the best of her knowledge, emphasizing the important of toning each limb to support the whole body. Eventually, Perfectly Frank offered his hand to the Trainer. Understanding the pattern now, she shook it kindly. He squeezed it tight, perhaps tighter than necessary.

“Thank you for coming to talk with us today, Miss Traynor. Your words _will_ be remembered.”

There was another burst of applause and the Trainer was escorted from the stage out through the building. More than a few of the Toads and other creatures who had politely waved at the Trainer upon her arrival turned away from her. Others greeted her even more warmly.

“Oohhhhh wow, I’ve never seen the boss so mad!” The Toad shook her hand wildly, much more frantic but looser than Perfectly Frank. “He was expecting a real pushover I wager- but you really showed him. I can’t wait to see the viewership on this one. Something tells me you’ll be a hit!”

Within minutes, the Trainer was back in the metal beast and returning to Peach’s home. Despite her fear of the metallic monster, she found comfort in its solitude. She could breathe now and reflect on the strangeness of her day. The mirrors. The crowds. The strangely passionate reactions to her fitness advice. The sensations in her stomach and veins when placed in the middle of it all. What could it mean?

This would be the first time the Trainer thought about people as something that existed outside of her fitness lessons. It would also be the first time her own emotional state was something she took the time to consider.

* * *

It took significant effort to find a quiet place to land the ship. Peach had sent a limousine for her arrival, deep within the dark forests of the Kingdom. Samus was never one for subtly, but she knew the risks of her presence in Peach’s kingdom. The Galactic Federation would be outraged. They’d wield the entire scope of their army if they thought it wouldn’t endanger their political reputation. Hell, they might call on their alliances to get Fox and his team to drag her down.

But they were the ones who crossed the line. And Samus would put him down, if she needed to. As she had done time and time again.

The drive to Peach’s castle was relatively peaceful as she went over the information she had gathered. Most of it she understood implicitly. She had to keep herself within the castle, she couldn’t go anywhere without protection, she couldn’t antagonize the Federation officials too much. Standard asylum protection.

The mystery to Samus was this Traynor woman. She had never heard of the woman before yet she appeared to be a trusted friend of the Princess, especially if they were to attend the Smash opening reception together. Yet she wasn’t provided with much information about her. The photos of the woman suggested a calm, detached demeanor. Her face was without expression, perhaps lost in thought.

It seemed to the bounty hunter that, perhaps, the woman had seen enough strange sights in the universe that little managed to faze her. It was a sensation Samus understand all too well.

She brushed these thoughts aside. There was no use theorizing before she met the woman herself. And there was business to attend to. She would just have to judge Traynor herself when the time came.

* * *

Mona often worked until she could no longer concentrate, then flopped onto her bed to drift away to slumber. There wasn’t enough time at the Wario building to complete her work there, especially when Ashley was so insistent on not doing work of any kind. This particular evening was no different. She tossed her jacket on a chair, changing from her dress to her sleepwear. With the push of a button, her television flickered on. She needed the noise to fall asleep, a habit picked up from a variety of city experiences, including taking catnaps backstage during her rock band days.

The program was some sort of commentary about the Smash tournament and the speech from the Princess. Mona was a big fan of the tournaments. The excitement and energy of the battles amped up her excitement to the max. Yet even she had began to feel cynical. She couldn’t see much improvement on the political scene from these events. Kidnappings progressed just as regularly as before, no matter how many kart races and sports tournaments the Princess organized. The other kingdoms and space groups seemed to prefer to keep their lives separate rather than indulge themselves in the affairs of their neighbors.

Nonetheless. It would still be really cool to be accepted. Even now, knowing how greedy Wario could be, it was hard not see the style and success her boss managed to cultivate with his brand thanks to the tournaments.

The host of the talk show, whose name escaped her, introduced a Miss Traynor. The addition of Miss was surely a form of politeness, but Mona had never understood the necessity among people to add more names and titles to things. Last names were a thing Mona couldn’t see a use for her in day-to-day life.

The guest was sitting across from the host now. The image was sharp and the color faithful. But even before that full face materialized clearly on the screen, Mona felt that she had seen this woman before somewhere. Perhaps she had been another program, another talking head that appeared on every network and channel to promote her own brand, where restless cameras showed every angle of a person’s head and body? There was something so acutely familiar about the woman.

She was so absorbed in trying to remember if and when she had ever seen the woman that she completely missed what Traynor said and what it was exactly that sparked such a loud response from the audience. This particular host on the KNN was known for some anti-Princess views, but the tickets to live shows were relatively cheap. There was no was of determining which way the crowd was leaning today.

Traynor’s segment ended before Mona could ascertain anything about what the woman had said and her focus was slipping when the second guest arrived. Another diplomat or fighter of some kind from another kingdom. His features certainly resembled Princess Lucina's kind of people. Mike or something along those lines.

“She certainly seemed to know her stuff,” the guest nodded. “She doesn’t mince her words like other fighters I’ve met. The tournament needs down-to-earth people like her. Royals will certainly benefit from the new perspective.”

“A simple view, from a mercenary. Is she really all that different?” The host retorted. “It seems to be she’s just saying what they want to hear.”

“Which just so happens to be what _you_ don’t want to hear.”

The crowd whooped and hollered again. Mona allowed her eyes to close. It was late and she was tired and the mystery of this Traynor woman could wait for later. She doubted it was of much importance. If she did know this Traynor, she couldn’t imagine it would be something that effect all that much.

How many ripples could one person make, at the end of the day?

* * *

The Trainer stared at the mirror. She had never paid it much heed before. It sat on the wall of a tiled room that had been to directed to the Trainer as "bathroom for when you need it." She had yet to need the bathroom.

Yet now here she was, staring at her reflection, checking to make sure all of her was still there. Nothing had been stolen after all. People all over had seen her and she had not seen them. But she still had herself. She wasn't sure she felt like she had all of herself, but physically she was the same. And the physical body was what truly mattered in the end.

Still, she maintained her examination for several minutes, watching for any cracks or changes between herself and the reflection. Everything was fine. Her balance was maintained. She was still herself.

She nodded to her reflection. The reflection nodded back.

"I am still Mii."

The issue now was believing it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It occurred to me, after writing it, that I should mention I'm not trying to make some kind of coy news parody or attack any specific channel. I just grabbed "Kingdom News Network" from the Mario's wiki page of "implied organizations."
> 
> I do love that page and that it exists in this world.


	7. Opening Ceremonies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fighters arrive for the tournament.

**It was Thursday.** Dr. Toadley had recommended staying in bed for eight hours every night. The Trainer didn't really understand his reasons, but it seemed to please the Princess to obey his wishes. So the Trainer had spent every night doing so, staring at the ceiling patiently until the eight hours were fulfilled. Today, however, she could hear the sounds of Toads racing around eagerly from room to room. She felt reasonably safe emerging from her sheets earlier than usual today. As she strolled through the corridors, they would stop to greet her warmly.

“That was a very fine speech you made, Miss Traynor,” said one Toad on the stairs.

Another opened a door for her. “Thank you, Miss Traynor. Just thank you from a simple Toad who’s seen a lot!”

On her usual walk around the castle, she was stopped by an older Toad. He was often by the Princess’s side. Today, she could feel warmth from beneath his bushy mustache. “That was a truly a remarkable performance, ma’am. I have never seen anyone more at ease or truer to herself. Thank goodness we still have people like you in this country.” He coughed into a piece of cloth. “Oh, by the way, the Princess would like to see you. She absolutely loved your speech today and wanted to talk with you in private.”

The Trainer estimated the difference in distance between the room and the Princess’s office and concluded it be easier to visit with her now, rather than later. She diverted her route through the castle and entered the office without any trouble.

The Princess was practically buried under piles of papers, signing document after document, again and again. She glanced up from her work at the Trainer. Her entire head soon followed the direction of the eyes to treat the Trainer with a beaming smile. With a speed the Trainer had to admire, she quickly stood to meet her guest.

“Traynor! Oh, you were absolutely wonderful last night.” She wrapped her arms around the Trainer, much to her confusion. She had never seen an exercise such as this. It didn’t appear to be very efficient. In fact, it restricted movement. She attempted to mimic the movement, but still found the whole procedure unsatisfying.

“I did nothing.” It was important the Princess know how limiting this whole exercise was.

“Oh, you did much more than you know.” She pulled away, still smiling her kind smile. “You have a rare gift, Traynor. You’re a natural. I wish I had your talent for it. I never seem to know the right thing to say.”

“Strength requires consistent training. It comes naturally to everyone if you do it every day.”

“You really think so?” She pulled back further and tilted her head, the smile more doubtful but pleased nonetheless. “I suppose I do work every day but... it never feels quite enough.”

Trainer was surprised. She had no idea the Princess exercised daily as well. And she still didn’t think that was enough? That was something to be truly admired.

“Be sure not to overexert yourself. Only stretch as far as you are comfortable.” It wasn't something she said often to students purposefully. She had to say it every now and then due to "health regulations" but she didn't enjoy it.

Yet somehow, the Princess’s smile grew even wider. “Oh, Traynor. You really are the kindest, most upstanding friend I’ve ever met.”

The Trainer’s brow furrowed. The Princess had used this word before. The definition still eluded her.

“I am a friend?”

“Of course! You’ve been nothing but incredibly kind and helpful to me. I truly value your presence these days.”

The Trainer felt a strange sense of pride at these words. Well, if being a friend meant being helpful and valued, she liked the idea. Her stomach felt lighter already.

“In any case, I have a favor to ask.” She strolled over to her desk, picking up a stack of papers. “A good friend of mine, well, she’s in… some trouble. She’ll be arriving at the Smash reception this evening and her presence might be… controversial.”

There was a silence, and the Trainer realized the Princess was expecting a response. She completed a nodding exercise, which seemed to suit her needs.

“I’m worried that people might think… well, I don’t want to appear to upset the balance, as you’ve said. Would you mind escorting her this evening?”

The Trainer nodded quickly, agreement more intentional this time. “Of course. Maintaining balance is all of our responsibilities.”

The Princess's smile glowed. Then, she bit the inside of her lip, grin flipping downward.

“Traynor… I hope its not forward, but you don’t often talk about yourself. I appreciate if you feel you _have_ to repay me but… I don't want to force you. Are you really alright helping me?”

The Trainer had never been asked a question such as this before. She had never even thought it a question worth considering. What did emotions have to do with fitness?

But it was something that appeared to be weighing on the Princess. And weight needed to be removed in the long-term. So she forced herself to consider it.

“I am… happy… to help.” The words strained out of her lips, entire body scrambling to force them back down inside. But it seemed to please the Princess. The two of them relaxed, regarding the other with respect.

“Thank you, Traynor. I’m glad I can count on you.”

They paid their regards and said goodbye. The Trainer returned to her walk, feeling… feelings. And for the moment, she didn't particularly mind them.

* * *

The opening ceremonies kicked off with a successful display from each of the participating arrivals. Each country or territory that wanted to could add an enormous float to a lengthy parade procession. The floats were astounding, highlighting the locations of most value and importance to the participating fighter. If the floats were secure enough, they would often be reused as arenas during the tournament to come.

Some fighters chose a large, sprawling castle, the center of their country’s culture and government. Some chose small streets or neighborhoods from their hometowns. Some chose arenas and boxing rings, from their other tournaments of note. Some chose beautiful islands or stunning hills and natural sights. Some chose blank, featureless parades with a few hovering platforms, pits, or other fighting hazards of note.

It was hard to deny the appeal of seeing something that symbolized what fighters saw important in this stage of their life.

No one quite understood the selection of Traynor. A fitness room seemed rather simplistic. But it seemed to meet the approval of old timers such as Game and Watch. It was nice to her to appeal to the older generation with a new, modern style. Within a few days, information would leak from anonymous sources that even getting this much information from the mysterious Traynor took days of effort and prying. She really did seem like a thoughtful. secretive person.

Whatever the reasons, this year’s floats were largely approved of by the populace. And the Trainer’s popularity increased once more.

Most of the public conversation regarding the floats, however, vanished quickly. Samus Aran’s surprise appearance at the festivities was quickly taking the news cycle by storm.

* * *

Samus had to leave the proceedings as soon as they were complete in order to avoid an immediate confrontation with the Federation representative. Their competitor didn’t make an appearance, of course, hidden away in some cage in a transport ship. The only thing comfort to Samus is that her replacement fighter was surely as angry as she was about the current state of affairs.

An odd, pale woman was already waiting by the car when she arrived. She was regarding the car curiously, although Samus could not decipher why.

“Something wrong?” The woman turned in surprise at the bounty hunter’s words, before treating her with a soft smile.

“Good evening. Ready to work out today?”

This was not the first greeting she expected. “Beg pardon?”

“We have a lot of work to complete before the day is through.”

Oh, of course. She must be referring to the stress that this opening dinner was sure to be.

“You got that right. Its going to be… strenuous.”

The woman tilted her head, still smiling. “It can be difficult. But that’s why it is important to complete.”

Samus took a moment to regard the woman carefully. Few people took the time to consider their words so precisely before speaking. Yet this woman's words held a strange power almost immediately. Direct. Confident. Clear.

“I suppose you’re right. I don’t believe I caught your name, Miss..?”

“Trainer.”

Oh right, the Traynor girl. “Right, right, Peach told me about me about you. I’m Samus Aran.”

Traynor smiled and nodded. “It is good to see you here today.”

“Pleasure to meet you too. Should we get going?”

The two entered the vehicle quickly. Within moments, it puttered to life and they bumped down the smooth, paved streets of the Kingdom.

Samus rested her chin in her palm, watching the buildings and people speed by. The occasional paparazzi did their best to keep pace with the limo, hoping to catch of the glimpse of the famed bounty hunter.

She paid them little mind. Her thoughts were already focused on her travel companion. She hadn’t encountered anyone in years who didn’t spend a few moments fawning over her reputation. She supposed Traynor was used to celebrity if she was close friends with Peach. Samus was struck by a sense of relief. She had forgotten how many refreshingly straight-forward tournament people were.

She peeked over at the other woman. Traynor was laser-focused on the passing buildings. She hadn't seen anyone so interested in a city for a while.

"See anything interesting?"

The pale woman turned in surprise, before offering a polite smile. "It is nice to see so many people excited for exercise."

Samus turned to look back outside. Among the media were eager tournament fans, thrilled for the start of the festivities. She could make out a few children sitting on the shoulders of their parents, lights glowing in their eyes. She had almost forgotten that delight on people's faces.

The bounty hunter leaned back into her seat, smiling. "You're right. Its a pretty welcome sight."

"Your legs are shaking." Said as a statement of fact, a simple observation. Her face and features utterly pleasant and unchanged. She said it so easily, Samus almost didn't process it as a non sequitur.

"I..." She looked down to find the woman was correct again. Samus hadn't even noticed. She steadied herself, bringing them into a firm position. "Sorry- I hope it wasn't troubling you."

"Not at all. A strong balance is hard to maintain."

Balance..? Yes, Samus supposed it was difficult to stay balanced. How could it not be? In the past year alone, she'd been labelled a "traitor" to the Federation and forced on the run. That wasn't even getting into her life before. Space pirates, illegal lab experimentation, destruction after destruction of innocent homes... keeping in mind the lessons of the Chozo was only getting harder and harder with each mercenary engagement. The stress tugged away at the light and strength within her.

She had never met someone who ever brought up the concept of balance so openly. She wondered if Traynor was familiar with Chozo teachings.

“I think everyone has trouble balancing themselves. The universe can be…" She sighed wearily. "Cruel. And we all have to deal from that from time to time. Keeping ourselves ‘balanced’ between what’s right and what’s wrong... It’s hard, figuring that out. But its worth it.”

Her companion's eyebrows went up, blinking in surprise. A wave of shame washed over her. This was why she spent all her time in space to begin with. She never knew what was too much or too little to say.

"That was, erm... probably a bit too much for a first meeting, hm?"

"Its interesting." Traynor gazed at the hunter curiously. "Tell me more about your balance."

* * *

The Trainer and Samus arrived at the main Smash building within the hour. They were greeted by a variety of guests, officials, journalists, and diplomats of all sorts. They were escorted to one of the private tables, separated from the non-fighters, although there was certainly space to mingle. It soon became clear to Samus that all eyes in the room were on them. A fugitive and a mysterious new political figure… there were certainly things to talk about.

Peach and Daisy were ready for their arrival and quickly accompanied them to their table. “I hope the paparazzi haven’t been too stressful?”

“No, no, the drive was peaceful enough. Traynor was nice enough to distract me on the way.” She checked briefly on Traynor, who had been whisked into a conversation with a young squid girl, before pulling Peach aside. “You said you ran over her?”

Peach huffed, a sheepish look on her face. “Unfortunately, I told my Toad to hurry that day. Luckily nothing was broken, but she was bed-ridden for several weeks.”

“She’s fascinating. I wasn't expecting much but... she's got a hell of a mind.”

Peach pursed her lips at the language but shook her head. Best to let it slide. “She always seems to say what people need to hear.”

“That’s an understatement. Is she spiritual?”

“I’m not sure. Why?”

“She asked me about my _balance_. It really caught me off-guard. I barely remember what I said, but... it seemed to interest her.”

Peach nodded in understanding. “She really does preoccupied with how other people feel. She’s so refreshing.”

“I’m glad you put your trust in her. I feel safer with her here already.”

* * *

“Miss Trainer, yes?” A man with the orange beard took a seat next to the fitness enthusiast, smiling a large smile. The Trainer blinked in surprise, her view cut off from the young girl she had been conversing with. The girl peeked her head out from behind the new arrival, glaring in annoyance. The Trainer wasn’t super cognizant of most rules of politeness, but it did seem rude to cut off a conversation like that.

“Hello there.”

He offered a large hand. “A pleasure to meet you. I am the King of the Gerudo. Lord Ganondorf.”

Having mastered this rule of the world, the Trainer quickly shook his hand. She was surprised by his firm grasp. She was further surprised when he drew her in closer towards him and whispered in her ear. "Master command: report findings. Remain in social mode."

He pulled back once more and stared at her expectantly. Unsure of what else to say, the Trainer decided that perhaps he wanted to know about his health. The Board usually handled more complete evaluations, but she could fill in with small observations.

“You’ve got amazing ab strength. You’re pretty strong, aren’t you?”

He blinked in surprise before quickly regaining composure, smiling and eyeing to see if there were any listeners. “You’re very kind.”

“Unlike some people,” mumbled the girl behind the king. Yet he paid her little heed.

“I’m sorry we didn’t meet sooner. I saw you on the news and must say that I was very interested in your down-to-earth philosophy. I’m not surprised it was so quickly endorsed by the Princess.” He drew his chair closer. “Tell me, Miss Trainer, how is the Princess doing?”

Once again unsure to which one he referred, the Trainer opted for: “Very well. Her balance is incredible.”

“So I understand, so I’ve heard.” He did not seem particularly pleased with the fact, leaning forward once more. “We should speak privately, I think. I want to be perfectly candid with you.”

The Trainer nodded at Perfectly Candid. If he wished to change his name, who was she to judge? 

Just as Ganondorf rose to lead her to a private area, a large turtle like creature crashed right into the table next to them. The table toppled to the ground, plates crashing into pieces.

“Greetings, CHUMPS! Looks like your little pow-wow needs some livening up!”

Ganondorf scowled, turning away from the Trainer. “King Bowser. I didn’t see you there.”

“Hey! The King of _Awesome_ is not _ignored_.”

“Clearly.”

Another large creature with a backwards hat and a skateboard rolled up to the kerfuffle of activity. “WHOA YOU OLD GEEZERS, IT AIN'T TIME TO PARTY UNTIL KYLE DROOL IS IN THE HOUSE.”

Ganondorf pinched the bridge of his nose. Why did all his alliances have to be full of such utter imbeciles?

The Trainer observed the proceedings carefully, unsure how to respond to the burst of all this enthusiasm. She decided to wait patiently, for a few minutes, before taking a chance to politely depart. This Candid was... a strange one. But she couldn't see a reason to deny his request to meet for a private session at some point. Besides, how could a man as fit as Candid ever be anything less than an upstanding member of this outside world?

* * *

As these events proceeded, a princess and her personal knight sipped drinks from across the room. They took in the dramatics at the villains table, carefully analyzing every movement made, every potential sign of an oncoming threat.

“Its her. She's exactly who we thought she was.” A fact. Zelda didn’t voice her suspicions until she was absolutely certain in the validity of her statement.

The knight nodded. He nodded to most things. He would agree to anything Zelda said to him.

“The question is how much she knows. If she's his eyes and ears on the inside of the castle... She could tell him all sorts of things.”

The knight’s hand was already on his sword, but Zelda quickly placed her hand on his.

“ _No_ , Link, we need to know more. Besides, you can’t just attack people in public.”

Link didn’t understand the issue. But it mattered little to him whether he attacked Ganon or the Trainer now or later. He could wait.

Zelda knew this about Link, although for once she wasn’t sure how. She was adept at understanding most people, but Link in particular she always had an inkling for how he thought.

Wisdom told her that she was needed elsewhere. Diplomatic duties.

“Keep an eye on her. Get close, if you can- not right away, but slowly. We don’t want to make ourselves too noticeable. We might have a chance to refit her programming back to normal.”

He nodded. It didn’t matter to him whether he became noticeable. A lot of things didn’t really matter to him. But Zelda asked for it, so he would do so.

It was easy to do things without question when you lacked the fear of consequences that might result.

* * *

In the hubbub of the evil kings and one perplexed Trainer, no one noticed the Inkling scuttle off across the room. It was fine enough with the hot new excitement that was the Traynor, but the Inkling couldn’t handle be near all those un-fresh weirdos all at once. _I'll just have to get a selfie with her later_. 

Her eyes trailed across the room, gazing for other potentially exciting fighters to chill with. The Princesses might be interesting but they were also so last year. The Pokemon were always a hot commodity, but she wasn’t entirely sure what they ate. She would hate to be on that menu. It seemed like the best option was to find a table of new fighters to hang with. They were newsworthy and exciting. That would up her freshness for sure.

And, if she was being honest, that dog girl was pretty cute.

She quickly hopped up into a chair next to her and the blondie, trying to make the movement look as stylish as possible. “Heya. You guys staying fresh?”

Blondie raised an eyebrow in bemusement. “As fresh as one of the recently living can be.”

“I hope so!” The dog smiled, wagging her tail happily. “I picked my best outfit for this day. I don’t stand out, do I?”

The Inkling glanced over the ensemble. It was… pretty geeky. Plaid was like the opposite of fresh.

“You do, yeah.”

“Wha?!” Inkling’s heart broke immediately as tears started to drip down the dog’s face.

“Fear not, Isabelle! It is a… good standing out! The standing out that would be the envy of nations!”

“You really think so?”

“Most certainly!”

The dog’s features relaxed and the smile returned to her face. Satisfied, the Blondie turned his attention back to the squid. “Tell me, little one, who was that woman you were previously engaged with in conversation?”

“Traynor? Oh, she’s a real popular figure right now. Her freshness is out of the park. If you want more points, you should totally go talk to her.”

“Hmph." Blondie crossed his arms warily fixing the Traynor party with a stern glare. "I do not think I like the company she’s keeping.”

“I getcha. They’re pretty lame.”

“They are downright villainous. I can see the aura of evil surrounding them. I fear that she may be precisely the prey I have been seeking.”

“Oh, I’m sure that’s not true, Mr. Belmont!” The dog quickly waved her paws in blondie’s direction to calm him down. “She said all sorts of nice things on the news recently!”

Simon grimaced, crossing his arms. “Dracula and his ilk are all too talented at deception. If she is seducing the populace to fall under her control, I shall have to stop her.”

This was… super unfresh. “I don’t think that would go over well.”

“She’s right! You have to get to know a person before you make decisions like that.”

“That’s the trouble, isn’t it?” It was a new voice. A gruff voice. The trio turned to see a single light flicker and vanish from the shadows. Slowly, a cigarette emerged, followed by the man holding it in between his teeth.

“No one knows quite anything about this ‘Traynor’ character… do they?”

Simon stood up warily, hand reaching for a sword that Isabelle frantically tried to put back away. “And who might you be, eavesdropping from dark corners?”

“He’s Solid Snake.” The Inkling leaned back in her chair. “Big shot military guy. Destroyed some terrorist. Was pretty legendary for a while. Kind of an anti-authority hero for the 90s. Now he’s just old news.”

Snake glared at the teenager. That was a hit to his psyche. “And you’re one of the inklings. Always chasing the latest fads, forget the history behind it.”

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?”

Smoke exhaled from his lips. “People like this Traynor woman don’t just show up without any background in that powerful a position unless they’ve got big friends and something to hide.”

“Hey, there’s no smoking indoors!” Isabelle quickly jumped up and snatched the cigarette from his hands and throwing it to the ground, stomping it under her heel. Snake could only stare in absolute bafflement. Hi huskies never stole his smokes before. This was new territory.

Luckily, the Inkling was a distraction. “So what? Why does it matter where she came from?”

“Quite simple, little one.” Simon’s fist met the table. “If she has ill intentions, it is our duty as appointed fighters to halt her machinations before they begin.”

“Something like that.”

“I don’t want to hurt anyone though…”

“And she’s _fresh_ right now. That’d be ranking suicide.”

“Obviously, no one’s hurting anyone.” Snake fiddled with his box of smokes and Isabelle fiddled with trying to take them away. “I’m just looking for more information. If anyone else is as curious as I am, I’m sure we could all benefit from trying to learn more.”

Isabelle frowned. “Like _spying?_ That’s not very nice…”

“ _Learning_. Someone could get close to her. Ask her questions. Gain knowledge.”

That finally grabbed the Inkling’s attention. “Ooooooh, me me me me me! I can get close to famous people, no problem!”

Snake smirked. “Then that’s your assignment, kid. Anyone else interested?”

And so yet another group formed to learn more about the mysterious Traynor.

* * *

Little Mac considered himself a pretty down-to-earth guy. He was excited to join the tournament and prove himself among all these experienced brawlers. But he wasn't particularly comfortable in this kind of environment. He was always better in the ring than in these kind of social, diplomatic scenes.

Ike also considered himself a pretty down-to-Earth guy. He didn't have much time for the excesses of royalty and the other high-class contestants. He was born a mercenary and he always would be a mercenary. Walking around with all these fancy sorts playing fighter wasn’t his particular jive.

It was natural, in many ways, for these two gentlemen to get along with each other.

“No, really, it could have gone either way.”

Ike tilted a glass towards the boxer, shaking his head emphatically.

“ _Please_. I appreciate your modesty, but you completely _destroyed_ Glass Joe. As every competitor has for years.”

Mac failed to stifled a grin behind a serious look. “I’m sure he’s got a comeback coming, man. Give him some slack.”

“He can do it!” The screech was so high-pitched it startled the men, having nearly forgotten the additional competitors at the table.

“He can do it!” screeched another, somehow higher, voice.

“He can do it!” screeched the mercifully lower third voice.

Their other dinner companions were much less easy to get along with.

It wasn’t as though they were bad people, per se. The two men just weren’t sure if they were… people. They smiled constantly, but their smiles failed to reach past their noses. Were those noses? Their eyes seemed dead and blank. The shape of their heads were perfect ovals, barring slight deviations. And when they spoke, their voices were high-pitched and nigh-unintelligible.

It was hard to ignore them, despite how hard the fighters were trying to.

Mac fumbled for a moment before trying to regain the conversation. “Y-yeah. People used to say I had no chance of beating anyone. If I can become the champ, maybe he can too.”

“You’re too kind. He has yet to win more than a single match in thirty years.”

“But he keeps going. You can’t deny he’s got determination to spare.”

“To spare!”

“Lots of determination!”

“He keeps going!”

Another silence enveloped the table.

Ike poured himself a drink, eyeing the other figures. “And you three. Tell me about yourselves. What brings you to the tournament?”

The low-pitched one in the blue shirt. “I’m Mii!”

The the high-pitched second in the yellow. “Mii too!”

The middle-pitched third in the red. “Don’t forget Mii!”

Ike handed the bottle to Mac, who seemed eager to pour his own glass. “Yeah, but uh… Where are you from? How’d ya get into the tournament?”

“Here to fight!”

“Ready to have fun!”

“Boogie down!”

Mac and Ike shot glances at each other and silently downed their drinks.

And the Miis simply smiled.

* * *

The celebrations ended before long and the Trainer and Samus Aran were among the first to leave. They never were much for conversation. The two women returned to Peach’s castle, bidding each other farewell, and departed to their respective rooms.

Samus knew tomorrow would be difficult. The Galactic Federation ambassador had not appeared at the ceremonies. They would undoubtly file a protest and demand the Princess return Samus to their jurisdiction. Yet, somehow, she felt hopeful. There were people here she could trust, for once. People who would listen to the threat the Federation’s new competitor posed to the galaxy, much less the tournament. For the first time in months, she could rest easy.

In her own room, The Trainer found herself reflecting on all the people she had met, particularly Samus Aran. Their conversation in the car had been absolutely fascinating. They had discussed balance and stability and all those important things. But the way Samus discussed those topics was so fundamentally different from anything the Trainer had heard before. The Trainer had never considered balance to be something independent of the body. The concept of an inner balance was… novel. She had to admit, she didn’t feel very balanced in this outside world. More and more, it was starting to feel less like the world was wrong and that there was something wrong with _her_ . She felt…

Well, that was something in itself. She was _feeling_ things. She wasn’t sure precisely _what_ she was feeling. She was too unfamiliar with feelings to really understand the precise nuances of them. She supposed she felt… like she was failing the Wii Fit Center. That their noble mission was failing thanks to her. But she also felt like she was always a few steps behind of everyone else. The world moved so quickly and it was hard not to feel overwhelmed by it all. To feel stupid surrounded by things she didn’t understand. But she was learning new things, fascinating things. And perhaps, somehow, learning more would help her find new ways to spread fitness across this land.

But was she learning the right things? Or was she just getting distracted by the decadence of unfit society? Her stomach was tying itself into knots over all these new decisions plaguing her. She had never had to think this way before and she wasn’t sure she liked it.

...Perhaps it was time to reopen her training sessions. Get back to what she understood. And from there… everything would become clear yet again. Yes, she nodded to herself. This would be the best way to resume the Balance Board’s mission.

Soon she would feel like who she was supposed to be again.

Confident again in her normality, the Trainer slipped under the covers her bed and stared at the ceiling for the appropriate number of hours.

* * *

As the final guests parted to their respective hotels and the paparazzi vanished, three fighters in particular paused in the middle of the sidewalk. They turned, in unison, towards the embassy of the Galactic Federation. They stared at it for several moments before turning to look at the other fighters. It was important to follow what the others were doing.

No one else noticed a thing. 

Satisfied, two of the fighters continued their passionate conversation. If no one else had heard it, it must not be important. It might not have even happened at all.

"Fun time all around!" said the Mii Brawler.

"Great dancing!" agreed the Mii Swordfighter.

"Boogie down!"

The final of the Miis did not follow her compatriots or continue with the conversation. She stared after them momentarily as they disappeared into the hotel. 

Then the Mii Gunner crossed the street and stepped inside the Federation building.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The pacing of this chapter bothered me, so I delayed this chapter for a week to try and work out the kinks. Then school started and a week became two weeks and then two weeks became a month. I don't know if I quite reached what I was aiming for, but that's writing sometimes. Hopefully the other future chapters should be on schedule until the backlog runs out, but with school picking back up editing may take some time. Essentially? Week-to-week updates less likely for the rest of this I'm afraid!
> 
> As much as I love Bowser, he's not quite a voice I think I could ever nail down. He's unapologetically evil, but he's so fun and even heartfelt sometimes. With the Zelda cast, there's enough differences between iterations that I have room to make some unique spins on the characters.


	8. Tours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Trainer rediscovers a place of comfort.

**One of the toads was the first to greet her in the morning.** “Ma’am, I’ve just seen this morning’s papers! You’re in every one of them and the photographs are stunning! You’re the talk of the town!”

The Trainer nodded politely, privately considering what sort of shape a talk could be. Perhaps she could incorporate it into her exercises.

“They’re all asking for an interview- or another television appearance!”

The Trainer thought back to her interview with the black mirrors and the millions of eyes that were on her. It came easier than usual, in that moment, to use her own words. “Maybe later.”

“You got it, boss!” The Toad tottled towards the door before stopping. “Oh! Before I forget, the tours of the Smash tournament facilities will be this afternoon. Be sure to be ready!”

The Trainer nodded once again, quickly returning to her exercises. There was so much work to be done.

* * *

The Ambassador of the Galactic Federation was furious. The moment he returned to his office, he flung papers about and toppled over the lamp on his desk. His poor clerks cowered in their chair in the hall outside.

The meeting with Princess Peach had gone exceptionally poorly.

The Ambassador was used to getting what he wanted. He was born to a politician who worked closely with the Council. As a child, he had access to all the things in the world he wanted. He learned how to grease the political wheels of the system and keep things treading his direction. He had, in his own way, admired Samus Aran and her ilk. Bounty hunters who stood by the side of the Federation against the menace of the Space Pirates were worth admiring.

He, and many others, felt personally betrayed when Aran destroyed the BSL station. He couldn’t understand why Aran would destroy a valuable weapon to be used against those who would hurt the Federation.

As such, perhaps he had let his anger spill through during the course of the diplomatic meeting.

He began by calmly explaining the concerns of the Federation and request Aran be turned over to the Federation post-haste. He appealed to her sense of law and order.

The Princess disagreed. “I just don’t think I could turn over a civilian who requested asylum who hasn’t hurting an innocent soul.”

Second, the Ambassador began to ask what the Princess wanted in return for Aran. He understood the political game. Everyone wanted something.

But the Princess didn't follow the rules. “There’s nothing you could give me that would convince me to betray a friend. I hope you can forgive me.”

That was the point where he snapped. He accused the Princess of subverting Galactic peace and sabotaging the Federation by allying herself with terrorists and villains. The Federation would _not_ let this stand, you blonde _bimbo._

The most frightening thing about the Princess was how _calm_ she was at his less than polite display. She let him bluster and hiss and wail for as long as he pleased before calmly standing to her feet.

“I think that’s the end of our conversation, Ambassador. If I may offer some advice my good friend Traynor offered me: proper exercise is essential to further development and personal happiness. Now, I am going to exercise my right to forget your behavior today, in the interest of our diplomatic relations. I hope you will do the same.”

The Ambassador hadn’t been scolded since he was a child. It was sobering and infuriating all at once.

As soon as he reached some level of calm, he called in his secretary, his clerks, and his bodyguards. When they entered, he was already pouring over every scrap of footage the journalists had captured of the notorious bounty hunter.

“I want eyes on Aran at all hours. I want eyes on everyone she talks to, every place she goes to, I want eyes on anything her breath has been _close to_ , and I want it _now_.”

As his workers scuttled about, the Ambassador’s eyes focused on a single pale woman, smiling next to Aran as they exited their limousine.

He quickly wrote a single word on his notepad: _Traynor?_

* * *

Many of the established veterans chose to avoid the tour this particular year. It largely covered the same beats as always. Here were the restrooms, here were the bunk beds for those who wanted to rest between rounds. Here were the lockers, here was the arenas, etc etc.

The newcomers were amazed and astonished by the sights before them. Few had experienced such elaborate facilities. The fighters gawked and delighted in the tools and luxuries afforded to them. Isabelle hopped up and down hopelessly attempting to reach a locker before Little Mac gave her a hand. The veteran hedgehog hopped into a bunk to nap, quickly imitated by the Inkling and the Miis. Incineroar fiddled with the ropes of one arena, practicing his boasting and gusto that would suit his performance during the tournament. The veterans that were present laughed among themselves at the antics.

Several of them kept their distance from one Samus Aran.

She wasn’t surprised, really. Being on the run from the government changed things. Who wouldn’t think differently about a friend after they’ve decimated a research station?

The galactic politics were tense. Fox and Falco in particular had their own obligations to fulfill to the Corneria Defense System. Wolf, naturally, was probably wondering how he could capture her and send her to the Federation for the hefty price. Olimar was beholden to his company’s interests. Falcon was his own man and one who hadn’t bothered to worry about someone tracing his calls to her. He was also a man who wanted rocket boots, but not enough to sell someone out for them. The Dreamlanders… well, they didn’t care what anyone did as long as they weren’t threatened. There was almost something comforting knowing Dedede's gruffness was typical.

Then there were the Earthers. The Eagleland children probably only heard whatever their parents heard, so who knows where they stood. The climbers wouldn’t care much. Sonic _definitely_ wouldn’t care but they weren’t that close to begin with. Various royals would keep their distance. Snake would probably throw her a party, if parties were the sort of thing he had the patience for. Pikachu…

She had a feeling there was a reason the Pokemon Trainer wasn’t at this tour.

That left the newcomers. She didn’t know any of them enough to judge their feelings on the matter. Would they resent her for taking the spotlight? Or were they the more patriotic sort who considered any kind of resistance improper?

As the tour drifted onward, she couldn’t help but feel isolated. Sure, she spent months alone in the vacuum of space with only the occasional message from allies. That was nothing. It was the feeling of loneliness in a crowd that hurt. It stung a special sting that told you people vastly preferred it when you were far far away.

Looking around at the crowd, she was suddenly struck by a curious thought.

“Has anyone seen Traynor?”

The crowd of eyes turned on her before turning to look among themselves.

“She was here a moment ago,” pondered the boxer.

“Ah, you don’t think she got lost, do you?” worried the dog.

“Lost!” Everyone winced as the Miis chirped up.

“Took a wrong turn!”

“Boogie down!”

The Toad leading the charge quickly put up her hands. “Don’t worry everyone, she could just be following behind. I’ll send someone to go find her.”

“I can go look for her.” Eyes swiveled back to Samus. “I’ve been on this tour before, after all.”

The Toad hesitated. “Does anyone want to go with her?”

There was silence.

Samus steeled herself to take the journey alone. It didn’t bother her. It was just how things had to be.

Then the jingle of bells as the dog hopped from the middle of the crowd. “I could help!”

* * *

Mona sighed as she slipped another document into another envelope on another day.

It wasn’t that WarioWare was a boring job or a bad place to work. Well, no, it was a horrendous place to work under an absolutely greedy tyrant. But it wasn’t boring. Mona couldn’t stand boring.

The issue was that the excitement… wasn’t the same as it was before. She used to lead bands and motorcycle around town. She used to be at every dance club and dressed at the height of fashion.

Now she drove a car, wore suits, and got her thrills from earning the company more money.

She leaned into her hand, blowing hair out of her face. Where had it all changed? She used to be so… was perky the right word? Irrevent, maybe. Just more wild, less routine. She still lived fast paced and curveballs still went her way. WarioWare Insurance kept her busy enough in the day to day with sudden attacks from villains to manage and finagle the finances of. The tech division was developing all sorts of exciting new properties with applications that made her laugh and gasp. She wasn’t bored. She wasn’t unhappy. It was just… routine.

She pushed herself out of her chair and made her way to the coffee in the lobby. The sweet dark nectar poured into a little paper cup. Steam wafted upwards as she stirred it about, hoping to cool off the concoction. It was cheap and bitter, much like the boss, but it kept the senses moving.

That was the true mark she had lost her way. She was excited about _coffee_.

The job just wasn’t quite the same as it used to be. She missed the wind in her hair and the adrenaline coursing through her veins. The thrill of hunting down the new talent hiding in the city for her to uncover. Investigating new mysteries in her trustworthy city.

But she had responsibilities now. She couldn’t do those sorts of things anymore. The work was too important. Too many divisions and contracts to keep track of. Too many tensions to cool between Wario and the staff, making sure he wasn’t bleeding everyone dry. No time for the things she used to enjoy.

Her eyes drifted to the television. The news was once again all about the tournament. That used to excite her too. The announcements, the anticipation… but the cynicism that came with adulthood was too strong for her to find the feelings she had all those years ago. She didn’t even remember some of these fighters being announced for the-

Hold on.

Her eyes zeroed in on a singular figure. A pale woman. The same pale woman that was on tv just a few nights ago. Mona had completely forgotten all about her. Yet once again, she was struck with that same sense of familiarity. She _had_ met this woman before, she was sure of it now. But where...?

Reporters had cornered the woman after the opening dinner, badgering her and Samus Aran with questions. In the buzz of it all, one question managed to slip through the cracks.

“Miss Traynor, how are you feeling about the tournament?”

The woman stared in confusion before she recollected herself and offered her startling familiar smile.

“Ready to work out today!”

The feed cut to the newscasters, dithering and speculating about all the various ways the words could be interpreted. The only person who could listen was a single cup of coffee, long forgotten.

It was her. It was _her._

A rush Mona hadn’t felt in a long time was returning..

* * *

The walk through the facilities was quiet barring the quiet jingle of Isabelle strolling down the hall. Samus couldn’t help glancing down at her new companion. Where was that jingling coming from…?

Isabelle looked up at Samus.

Samus stared back.

Isabelle smiled warmly.

Samus smiled back.

Good dog.

“The tournament is pretty exciting, huh? I’ve never seen so many people before!”

She chuckled. “Very. First time, huh?”

“Oh yes! I’ve never even been in a fight before…” She gripped her tiny paw. “But I hope the Mayor and I can do our town proud!”

Very good dog.

“I’m sure they’ll be impressed.”

Her smile could light a thousand stars. “Really? Wow! What about you? Who are you representing?”

She winced. “I… used to represent the Galactic Federation. Since the beginning, actually. But I’m independent this year.”

“Oh, you’re giving someone else a shot to be a fighter! That’s so nice of you!”

Samus gladly took the opportunity not to correct her.

“Oh! I didn’t introduce myself! I’m Isabelle.” She offered a paw to the woman, tail wagging. Here, most certainly, the truth would come out. Still, Samus shook the hand.

“I’m Samus Aran.”

“Nice to meet you!”

And that was the end of that. Samus waited for a moment of shock or discomfort that never came.

Huh.

“Aren’t you worried?”

Isabelle tilted her head in confusion. “Worried?” A lightbulb appeared over her head. “Oh! No, I think someone can fill me in on anything on the tour I might have missed.”

The dog blushed sheepishly. “Besides, I forget some of the things they’ve talked about already. Heehee.”

Samus had only know this dog for a few seconds, but if anything happened to her she would kill everyone and then herself. “Well, I’m happy to help if you have any questions.”

Isabelle beamed again. “You’re very nice, Miss Aran! Everyone else seemed too busy to help find Miss Traynor!”

She chuckled again. “Well, I’ve shared a few conversations with her that certainly helped me. It seemed only fair to return the favor. Why did you decide to help?” She had a feeling helping was simply in Isabelle’s nature.

“I didn’t want anyone searching on their own! Besides, Mr. Snake said it might be a good idea to- eep!” She quickly clamped her paws over her mouth.

Samus’ brow furrowed, her pace slowing. “Snake? You mean Solid Snake?”

Isabelle glanced at the floor, searching for something to salvage herself. “Did I say Snake? I mean… rake!”

Samus stopped in front of Isabelle, crossing her arms. “Did Snake ask you spy on Traynor?”

“He didn’t say we had to spy! Just… learn! It was important to learn as much as we could about her. And it’s good to learn about new friends!”

Samus sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. She always knew Snake was a suspicious guy but she really couldn’t understand his paranoia in this case. What could possibly be nefarious about Traynor? “As long as that’s how you’re approaching it, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“How else would someone approach it?"

Such a good goddamn dog.

Isabelle peeked her head into the gym. “Oh! There she is!”

* * *

And there she certainly was. She was in the middle of a stretch, her feet and back planted on the ground. She lifted herself up to her knees repeatedly in a quick, swift movement. After a few more of these, The Trainer climbed to her feet. Spotting the duo, she smiled at them warmly.

“Hello there! Ready to work out today?’

Class was back in session.


	9. Training Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Trainer trains. The schemers scheme.

**In the preparation for the previous tournaments, the fighters often kept to themselves.** This wasn't to say they were unfriendly towards one another. They would socialize with each other, watch matches together, and enjoy pleasant company and conversation. Tight bonds between competitors had been known to form quickly between rivals of all sorts. But when it came for training and preparing for the fighting itself, more than a few would do so privately. While there was no official award for winning the tournament, it was still a matter of national and personal pride to do so. Few wished to give away any advantages that the other fighters could use against them.

Yet in this, the fifth tournament, it became relatively common for fighters to train together. Part of this could be attributed to the sheer size of this tournament. With over seventy fighters, including returning figures from tournaments who had reappeared after an absence, the tournament size had nearly doubled. It would be impossible by this point to avoid training near someone.

However, whether accurate or not, some began to attribute the newfound group training to the efforts of Miss Traynor herself. From the first day at the tournament building, she had started group training sessions that ran nearly the entire day. Little Mac enjoyed Rhythm Boxing. Sonic sped through the lunges and poses. People came and went as they pleased, and each remarked at the ease Traynor took to improving the skills of the entire league.

It also provided several of them with the opportunity to try and learn more about the elusive figure.

* * *

Samus leaned forward on her knees, rising from her pose. “You’re pretty serious about these exercises, huh?”

The Trainer smiled at her warmly. “Train every day and aim for a toned waistline!”

She wiped her brow. “I think I’m pretty covered on that front. What made you decide to learn so much about work-outs?”

The Trainer had never considered a question like this before. Stretching and exercise just came naturally. She wasn’t sure how to put that into words.

“Helping others achieve their ideal selves is all I’ve ever done.”

Samus smiled softly. “I think I can understand that. It feels like it would sort of betray my upbringing otherwise.”

The Trainer found herself nodding. “Yes. It’s important to live up to those who trained us.”

“Exactly. I can’t even imagine what I would do otherwise.”

“What else is there to do?”

The two stood silently for a moment, wrapped in the thoughts of legacy and its spread.

Then Samus rolled her shoulders casually, shaking off the memories of the past. “Alright, what’s next?”

“Let’s do some yoga today.”

The Trainer moved into a tree pose, letting the feeling of becoming something else wash over her. Some standard words of encouragement were voiced, but for the moment she could just… be.

Satisfied with her own journey, she returned her focus to Samus.

The woman had contorted into a ball on the ground.

The Trainer stared for several seconds. Synapses in the brain desperately cobbled together in a furious attempt to form an opinion of fitness that went beyond her wildest imagination.

Eventually, her mouth managed to say something completely and utterly original, unprompted from outside sources.

“...Could you teach me how to do that?”

* * *

His entourage had prepared his room for his stay days in advance. By this point in the tournament, it was almost as familiar as his rooms back in the valley. Banners proclaiming the proud symbols of the Gerudo hung from the walls. The bed sheets and the mattress had been replaced to better fit his preferences. A desk had been placed comfortably near the windows, for when the King needed to do some measure of paperwork or business. A little mirror, shimmering with mystic energy, was placed carefully on a comfortable pedestal. From there, his generals and agents could report to him efficiently and quickly.

His general was yammering on in detail. Hyrulians they had captured on the outskirts of the valley. Information spies had acquired. New statues to be built in his honor.

All things were as they should be.

Ganon could barely pay attention.

He stood over his private balcony, gazing over at the streets of the kingdom. He could see motorized vehicles sped down streets. Children with backpacks shoved and pushed each other as they raced off to school. Men and women in suits walking at an almost unified speed to their work. Fools filling about their little schedules and routines. Obeying whatever commands their betters gave them.

That was the thing that was so perplexing about the Trainer to him. Who would have thought it? A being like that, gathering _followers._ Supporters. Fans.

“General, remind me.” He ignored the look of discomfort on the General. She cared far too much for her reports. “What are the current odds for the Trainer again?

“At last count… +130, sir.”

“Ah, of course. You may proceed.”

No one had even seen her in action, yet lemmings were lining up to support her. It was fascinating. If anyone had told him that a thing like that would be essential to the global political stage before now, he would have them thrown off the highest tower.

On the other hand, it made sense, in a fashion. The weak, powerless peons will always gravitate towards what they think is charisma. And the Trainer provided so much to project onto. A mind completely void of thought and meaning. Or purpose or soul. Still, the historical records had never mentioned that their creations possessed social programs as advanced as to function in high society. And now that she- _it_ was rightfully under his control, he could use that to his advantage. All it needed to do was repeat some words, which obviously came naturally, in front of a crowd praising him. Building up new followers in kingdoms abroad. Gaining forces to revolt against the pathetic wastrels that currently occupied their offices.

And the weak would fall to the mighty.

The issue was getting that into its empty skull. For all its advanced actions, its program didn't seem to be working quite the way it should be. He had double checked his notes. He had given it the entire spell or code or what have you and that should have made it the perfect, dutiful servant.

“General-” Another tinge of annoyance in her posture. “You are positive the initial activation sequence in our tool was completed?”

She nodded with certainty. “It responded as expected when we first made contact.”

“Hm. Yes, I suppose it did. Carry on.”

It was troubling. He despised the uncertainty of the situation. He liked all his ducks in a row. Conquest needed to be swift, efficient, and merciless. And his little canary in the princess mine had to be providing the information he needed.

But he hadn’t had the opportunity to get it alone since the party. And the Mushroom Kingdom’s Princess had done well to keep it hidden from open public spaces. He briefly wondered if Zelda had informed her of the creature’s true nature before dismissing the thought. Knowledge was power and he couldn’t fathom why the princess would share even a slice of that advantage.

Perhaps… it was time for a more direct approach. He could always afford to stretch his limbs.

* * *

The soldier named David, known only as Solid Snake to those present, found himself wondering if he was in over his head. He often was. Trudging through enemy bases and destroying weapons of mass destruction may have come naturally but it wasn't exactly something he'd call easy.

This particular mission though felt completely out of his repertoire. He was a soldier for a reason. He was never one for leadership positions, much less detailed spy operations. He had trouble with just Otacon and the kid. Managing an entire team...

Managing _this_ team...

Simon sat down across from Snake, jolting the latter from his thoughts. “I observed her actions for several hours. She has yet to leave the facilities. But she has already amassed a small following among the other fighters. Her powers of charisma cannot be underestimated.”

“Hmph. Interesting.” He fiddled through his pages, looking through his chicken-scratch. Isabelle quickly retrieved the paper in question, handing it over perkily.

“You better not go back there today. You’ve already filled out two shifts. It might arise some suspicions.” He glanced around, annoyed. “Where the hell is the squid?”

“Um!” Isabelle lifted a paw. “She said she was going to check out the town! She had to update her outfit to be fresher, I think?”

Snake groaned irritably. “Great. Go find her, would you? She was supposed to be in position hours ago.”

Isabelle quickly saluted before trotting out of the room.

He hadn’t really planned for this. He had hand-picked people that passed background checks. The perfect agents that could move relatively unnoticed at his command. The historical records described Simon as dutiful and heroic who would go in whatever direction justice was required and he certainly proved to fit that title. The squid was like all other squids. Eager to please and more eager for attention of any sort. The dog was as polite and thorough as all their information suggested and just as easy to sway as the higher-ups had suspected.

But none of this was him. Running a team like this and keeping information hidden from fellow soldiers were nowhere near his expertise. Hell, military work in general wasn’t in him anymore. He would give anything to retire back to Alaska to take care of his huskies. But that wasn’t an option anymore. His life was decided by people with dark rooms long before he was born. And now here he was, still moving to their tune and dragging others along with him.

He needed a smoke. 

* * *

It took Ganondorf several minutes to remove all his armor. As the King of the Gerudo, he had many enemies to protect himself against. Here, however, he was relatively safe from harm. It would be politically inconvenient for the Princess and her attack dog to make a direct move.

In all honesty, it had been some time since he had even been able to consider dressing down to workout gear in public. He used to train in front of his guards, before he found the practice to be a waste of time. Besides, it hadn’t really been about toning the body.

It was about proving to them how much stronger he was.

He entered the gym quickly, looking for the Trainer. It had gathered some hangers-on and was demonstrating what he believed was the Sun Salutation technique. In the middle of its exercise, the Trainer’s gaze drifted over to him. It offered an empty, practiced smile that it no doubt thought was a friendly gesture.

“Hello there! Ready to work out today!”

He put on his own fake grin naturally, for the farce of the people around him. “Of course, Trainer. Perhaps afterwards we could return to our previous conversation. There’s lots of people that might be interested in what you and I have to say.”

There was a pause as the Trainer stared at him. Yes, he could see how people would interpret this. It would be easy to mistake its silence for thoughtfulness. But in due time, it would return to topics of conversation it was pre-programmed to discuss. Such as:

“Then let’s work on improving your ab muscles.”

Like clockwork. Strange it was so reliant on his abs, but it was a nice stroke for his ego.

“Certainly. But afterwards…?”

“...Let’s work on improving your balance!”

Hm. This would require careful phrasing.

“Riveting. I would _love_ to talk one on one with you about all the ways we could spread fitness after training is finished.”

That seemed to do the trick, the thing’s empty eyes lighting up with understanding. Fitness must be an essential line of code somewhere.

“Of course! That would be very informative.”

He grinned a full-toothed grin. Just a few nudges here and there and his plan would reach full-

“Hey gramps, are you done flirting yet?”

He immediately swiveled around, flaming eyes zeroing in on its target. “What did you just say?”

The insignificant little squid blew a wad of gum into a large bubble until it popped. “I said, if you’re done being a middle-aged college professor talking to a twenty something student when he thinks his wife isn’t looking, I was the one in a sesh with her.”

He stomped forward, expecting the harsh metal sound of boots he wasn’t wearing to click on the floor and internally disappointed when they failed to exist enough to make a peep. “You _dare_ to speak that way to me.”

“Pal, you interrupted _my_ time with Traynor twice! If you aren’t gonna wait your turn, how about at least waiting until you get some style.”

His face soon matched his hair in hue. “I will _not_ be treated with such _disrespect_ from a filthy little tadpole.”

“ _Excuse_ me?” The little squid hopped to her feet, glaring up at the King of Evil. “I’m a squid. S-Q-U-I-D squid. Are your eyes fading too much to tell the difference?”

Red rage blinded him. He was _king_. He was to be a _god._ He was to possess all the power of the infinite. And this _pintling_ had the _nerve_ to defy the respect he deserved. His hand reached back, fire at his fingertips, ready to trap this whelp into a stranglehold that would finish up her lifetime.

And then a little “Hello!” interrupted both of their glaring.

“Let’s work on the Single Leg Extensions together!”

The two looked at the Trainer. Then looked at each other.

A silent competition was agreed upon.

The next few hours were spent tying neck and neck in a number of intense physical events. By the end of his tight race with a child, Ganondorf had completely forgotten his original intent to meet with the Trainer.

* * *

Samus Aran was reading from a small object when the Trainer returned to the castle at last. A “tablet” she believed the woman had called it. The Trainer had been learning many little words such as that recently.

The Trainer liked Samus. She had stopped by every day to train with her. And in the evenings, they had shared more fascinating conversations. Most importantly of all, the woman demonstrated fitness capabilities that defied anything she had ever seen before.

If she had ever thought about her smile as something that occurred naturally rather than plastered, she would realize how much easier it came to her around Samus.

“Good evening, Samus.”

The bounty hunter looked up, smiling. “Evening. How was training?”

She thought back to the extensive exercises with the Inkling and Ganondorf. Normally she would happily inform Samus that daily exercise was the perfect way to tone the body and maintain balance. But she had said that before and, somehow, it seemed rather obvious to say as much to another fitness expert. She took a moment to think of the proper words. She wasn’t used to thinking about such things and it was proving to be a difficult experiment.

“Interesting. The students were very determined today.”

“Sounds about right. The tournament can get pretty rough near the end.”

People had discussed this “tournament” several times, but the Trainer was still having trouble discerning what, exactly, a tournament was. She couldn’t help but feel (again with these _feelings_ , what were they and how did she make them stop) that she would look like a non-expert in all important things if she asked. Perhaps even less than a non-expert. Perhaps even less than a student. She didn’t want to look ignorant. She thought over the words people had spoken to her over the course of these past weeks and how they formed together. If she could put together the right kind of question, maybe that could be enough to get more information.

“How has the tournament treated you?”

“Oh, a little quieter than other ones, for me. But I’ve met some pretty interesting people this time.” The Trainer liked how Samus looked directly at her as she talked. It made conversation easier when she could read her expressions and words more closely.

“Tell me about these other ones.”

Samus set down her tablet, leaning back. “Nothing too special really. I nearly won a few of them.”

“Won?”

“Yeah. Kirby beat everyone the first year, then...” She rubbed her chin. “Maybe Sonic won the one before last? Or maybe Fox. That one’s kind of a blur.”

She wasn’t sure she quite understood this whole winning thing. If it was a matter of exercise... even she had determined that the blue Sonic man outranked them all in terms of speed.

“It sounds difficult.”

“A bit. They can get taxing. But you’ll see that yourself when it all really starts.” She tilted her head. “Actually… you’ve been training people every day, right?”

The Trainer nodded. “Exercise is essential.”

“But I don’t think I’ve seen you rest much.”

Oh, the Trainer didn’t like this line of thought at all. The doctor had talked often about rest. “I rest as much as necessary.”

The look on Samus’s face was extraordinarily doubtful. “You’ve trained others for every day for at _least_ nine hours since the tournament preparation has started.”

“Doing yoga every day can help align your pelvis and also help you improve your posture.”

“I’m sure your pelvis and posture are _fine_. But it sounds like you really need some time off.”

The Trainer looked away, quickly discovering her first experience with grumpy stubbornness.

“Unnecessary.”

“Come on. Tomorrow night, you and me, we’ll go to a bar or something.”

Oh, a bar. The Trainer knew about bars. They were great for lifting yourself up and down from the ground. That was acceptable.

“Just a bar?”

“Just a bar. There’s a good one off 13th and Grand.”

She nodded slowly. “We can improve our flexibility.”

“Perfect. Five o'clock then.” And she offered the Trainer a delightfully warm smile. “It’s a date.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was a real temptation to name this chapter "Old Men Don't Understand Youth Culture" let me tell you.
> 
> This was one of those chapters where it was ready, but I wanted to post it on a weekend and then got too busy during weekends and after two weeks of that... I might as well just POST IT already, huh?


	10. Training Part II

**The Gerudo King felt like a complete nitwit.** This was not a feeling he was accustomed to and he didn’t care for it in the slightest. Somehow, that little… _codfish_ had distracted him from the goal at hand. He was _Ganondorf_ and he had gotten swept up in a childish little competition. It was incomprehensible. It was ludicrous.

And it only made him more determined to get dispose of her.

He had briefly considered sending some of his followers to _check_ on her. He quickly dismissed the thought. It was a waste of resources and too attention-grabbing. More importantly, he wanted as few people as possible to know about this particular rivalry. Explaining the humiliation of battling a child to his servants was an image that filled him with disgust.

So he decided to operate on a simpler level. He cornered her before the gym and revealed his offer plainly.

The Inkling stared at the gold coins in his hands in confusion. “...Is that prize money for beating you yesterday?”

His teeth clenched. “You beat no one, child, I-” He quickly cut himself off. “I simply need to negotiate with the Trainer on her own.”

Her brow furrowed. “....You’re paying me to be a wingman?”

“No. I am paying you to _leave_.”

She raised a single eyebrow. “...I really thought kings would have an easier time getting action than this.”

He slammed a fist into the wall beside them. “Impudent whelp. I have diplomatic matters to discuss with her.”

“Is that what they call it?”

“Will you take leave or not. ”

The Inkling looked him over, considering thoughtfully. “Nah.”

“...Nah?" The word was filled with distaste.

“Yeah, nah. I’m trying to boost my freshness here. You’re cramping my style.”

He felt the fire at the edge of his lips again. The eagerness to use it. To prove it. She didn’t understand the power she was dealing with. With just one quick motion, he could show her the sheer magnitude of her mistake.

“Hello there! Ready to work out today?”

He quickly spun around to give the Trainer a bright fake grin. “Ah, Miss Trainer. I was hoping we could talk about your training this evening.”

If he didn’t know any better, he might think there was surprise in its face.

“Prior appointments have been scheduled for that time.”

He chose to ignore the tongue the child stuck out at him. “I’m sure such arrangements can wait.”

“The appointment is filled.”

“Its not nice to skip in line, gramps.”

He shot her a quick glare before refocusing his attention. “Certainly they won’t mind an additional training partner. Unless you wanted to keep useful exercises away from your students.”

He could see its programming struggle against itself. Its impassive face barely containing its discomfort leaving any potential new student behind.

“...a joint training session could be beneficial.”

He clapped his hands together. Finally. “Wonderful. Then we’ll meet tonight.”

“Sounds fun!” chirped the little squid. “Can’t wait for it.”

The cold rage and aggravation returned quickly. He so desperately wanted to throttle this little monster.

“You _aren’t_ going.”

“Why not? I thought the more people exercising the better. Right? ”

The Trainer rubbed its chin thoughtfully. “...Yes! That would better the health of everyone involved.”

“Great! Where and when?”

Ganon couldn’t get a word in edgewise as plans were discussed before him. By the time his emotions cooled, the Trainer had already escaped to the safety of the gym.

The Inkling grinned an infuriatingly smug grin as she followed after her.

The great Gerudo King pinched the bridge of his nose. Perfect. Just absolutely stunning work. Once again, he was being outsmarted by a brainless tool and a silly little child.

Still. It was a start. He could move forward on his objectives from there.

What else could possibly go wrong? 

* * *

It was in the middle of Snake's latest dive into his box of smokes that Simon Belmont felt the need to speak up.

“Sir Snake, may I trouble you to answer a question that has perplexed me?”

The soldier peeked outside the room. His precious paper roll of tobacco had to be kept safe from the disapproving eyes of Isabelle. Satisfied, he moved back towards the center of the room, sitting down next to the table. All his essential maps and documents had been organized carefully into neat little piles. Snake casually shifted them aside as ash already tumbled down from his smoke. “Fire away.”

The vampire hunter drummed his fingers. “Our squid comrade in arms… she seems particularly occupied with ‘freshness’ she mentions. Do you understand what she means?”

“Hmph. Well, that's a long story. What do you know about the war economy?”

“I beg your pardon?”

Snake leaned back, gazing towards the ceiling. “The Inklings, all of them... They’ve only recently crawled out of the sea and formed their own society. They're too young to understand the world we do. No ideologies or causes to die for. They only understand what's popular at the moment. Always chasing the next big thing. Fads.”

“Fads?”

“That’s new to you too, huh? Fads are things that are briefly popular that the majority gets all excited about. But before long, everyone loses interest in it. Businesses and corporations are always looking for the next fad gripping people to get money while they can. Kids these days, especially the squids of Inkopolis... fads and trends are all they care about. And if you reject what’s popular now, well, you’re certainly not gonna everyone’s favorite person. That’s what freshness is.”

“But what does that have to do with this… ‘war economy’?”

“Freshness isn’t the only thing propelling the inklings’ direction. Their country had been locked into a civil war for some time now. Each side hoping for dominance, to decide what's ‘fresh’. One week, they’ll all be fighting to decide if they prefer forks over spoons. Soon enough, forks are the only things the kids are talking about while spoons are getting thrown in the garbage. The next? Fancy parties vs. costume parties. Lucky for her fancy parties won, some of these high and mighty politicians might not have liked her showing up in disguise. Art beat science, so their battles got more colorful while the public tech funding vanished. Of course the civil war could only win with the squids overpowering the octopuses. The majority always wins.

“And as these battles rage on, businesses sell weapons and clothes and so on to improve their status. Children raised to fight for passing fads and the local money makers are all too happy to keep gaining money from their shenanigans. Being popular, being fresh... it's what her whole society runs on. An entire economy built on war, without real cause. If the private military contractors knew about them before their society developed, the lot of them would have been scooped up into their own little child soldier projects.”

His mouth was agape. “Why that's… barbaric!”

“It's the only thing they know. And the local businesses are too powerful to want that to change. Furthermore, there's nothing there of interest to other governments to make them want to interfere. The interests of money matters more to everyone involved.”

“We certainly can't stand by as a _child_ is used for such a business.”

“Hmph." The soldier moved forward, hand removing his smoke carefully. With a slow movement, he smushed his cigarette deep into a document. The ash burned bright against a picture of Traynor. "Tell her what you want. She won't understand the problem. Besides, there's people here who could say the same things about your time period. Lots of horrible stuff happened in your original life. They might not take kindly to you passing judgement.”

Simon tried to refute these assertions, but his words failed him. He couldn’t deny the brutality that followed his own family line.

Snake let his focus fall to the window, looking out at Peach castle in the distance. He wondered what Traynor believed in. That was the biggest mystery of all. Time and time again, his missions proved that everyone lived and died by _something_. Even if they were just tools of war, every piece on the political chessboard had a reason to be where they were. Patriotic beliefs. Financial straights. Yet Traynor's ideology was a complete enigma.

Until they got someone close to Traynor, these operations were going nowhere. And even then, he wasn’t sure they’d manage to squeeze anything out of her. They needed something else. He needed-

The door kicked open with a mighty THWACK. The two men leaped to their feet, knife in one's hand, whip in the other's.

The Inkling paid them little heed. They had yet to even lower her weapons before she successfully maneuvered her way to the hotel bed.

"Feel free to praise me anytime now."

Snake grumbled, sheathing his knife. "Hnnnnnngh. Praise for what? Ignoring the schedule I gave you?"

She flopped down casually, smug grin plastered on her squid face. "How about for getting a guaranteed time the weirdo won't be anywhere near her room tonight?"

....Now that.

That was progress.

* * *

Captain Falcon was a more complicated man than most fighters gave him credit for. He had been many things in his life. An officer. A bounty hunter. A racer. A fighter. Some other things he was a little less proud of. In Mute City, he was typically regarded as a stoic sort of man who kept to himself, but was happy to help anyone who needed his aid. In the Smash tournaments, he was regarded as an over-the-top, almost goofy fellow who loved fights, justice, and more.

The reason for such a wide clash in his perceived personalities?

Captain Falcon just _loved_ the Smash tournament. 

The love didn't spawn instantly. Like all things, it was a slow process. He had been invited to the Smash tournament primarily for his record in the F-Zero competitions. Seeing no need to the hamper the Mushroom Kingdom's efforts at international and intergalactic peace, the hero of Mute City acquiesced. It was just another job to help maintain the public order. 

He was used to cheering crowds, of course. But he wasn't yet used to be this up close to them. Falcon had always kept a safe distance between himself and his racing fans. He could wave at them from his car before and after races. He could escape easily before any competitor got close. He could focus on his work. Let the speed of the race overtake him and melt his worries away.

The Smash tournament was different. He was up close and personal with each opponent he fought. Interviews were harder to escape and fans even more persistent. It took all his wits to worm his way out of conversation. Falcon liked people but... it always felt they would be better off keeping a distance from him. He had his work to think about. Justice to consider. Honor to maintain. Rights to wrong. That sort of thing.

Then, at some point, without realizing it... something changed. He let himself converse more. He relaxed during fights. It was all in good fun and no one was planning on killing him here. Why remain so uptight? In the Smash tournaments, he might be safer here than he was in at home.

Before he knew it, he was posturing and posing, shouting and bellowing. One competition, he found himself shouting the most ridiculous things. He couldn't even remember what he was originally trying to say.

All that came out was the words "FALCON PUNCH!"

And the people loved it. And he loved the people. 

It was here, in these tournaments, that he didn't have to worry about old bounties catching up to him. He didn't have to worry about intergalactic criminals sabotaging his Blue Falcon and driving him off a racetrack. He didn't have to worry about a single accident giving his enemies access to his blood or DNA to do god knows what. He could laugh and boast and enjoy just the thrill of a fight without the fear attached.

Bounty hunting was work. Space travel war work. Races were relaxing, but also work.

The Smash tournament was fun. And the Captain could use more fun in his life.

And he knew those newcomers could use it too. He often took it upon himself to interject in the lives of fighters that seemed particularly stressed.

Emphasis on _seemed._

Which brought him to his current attempts to harangue his protege of choice.

"It can be tough out there in this topsy-turvy world. Rarely can someone find safety in such a place as this!"

The woman nodded politely. "It does provide plenty of room for training. Let's work together on a Sun-"

"PRECISELY!" His booming voice even managed to break Traynor's carefully managed stoicism. She blinked, eyebrows perched in utter bewilderment. "Which is why, as a veteran fighter, I can speak from experience when it comes to stress." He placed a hand on Traynor's shoulder. "And you, my friend. Are stressed."

"Muscle tension is best solved with a series of nice yoga stretches. With the Half-Moo-"

His arm fully wrapped around the woman's shoulder. "Ah, how the mind stubbornly struggles to keep its bad habits! You must learn to trust the other fighters! Trying to outfight them will only bring you strain in the tournaments to come!"

"You... can avoid strain by-"

"I know just the ticket!" A triumphant finger jutted into the air. "You need a movie night! Just sitting down for once, enjoying the finest our local cineplex has to offer! Tonight, garbage food and entertainment will be your only prerogative!"

"I have plans tonight."

The wind vanished from the Captain's sails. "I... what?"

Traynor politely took this opportunity to remove Falcon's hand from he shoulder. "Samus Aran has invited me to the bar."

"Ah." His brain took a second to mentally catch up. "Ah! Perfect! Yes, that will do nicely! 13th and Grand, yes?"

"Yes? How did-"

"Of course, of course, her favorite." He nodded confidently. "Treat her kindly then. She could use the relaxation herself."

 _God damn, does she need a good night out for once_ , he thought.

But the Captain was satisfied for now and quickly left Traynor to complete her final exercises. Yes, that would do just nicely. Something like that would certainly help those two women take some of the stress off their backs. For god's sake, you could almost hear their backs creak in their attempts to support the world on their shoulders. He thought Samus was bad, but Traynor seemed to be a one-woman show trying to fix the every person she came across. A trip to the bar would be just what they needed.

In fact, it suddenly occurred to him, a trip to the bar could be what a lot of people needed. The tournament may begin tomorrow, but that made it the perfect time to try and get these newcomers to relax for a change. Nothing too crazy, just a night out for the latest arrivals in the tournament. That should be manageable.

The second the good Captain spotted another new fighter, he quickened his pace to meet theirs.

"Madam, a fantastic day to see you! Say, have you heard of a little bar on 13th and Grand...?"

* * *

Bayonetta had been invited to a bar more than a few times before. They were expected by this point. She supposed some people might be flattered to receive an invite from the legendary Captain Falcon.

She could do without it. She hated small talk and she didn't feel any need to get to know many people here, especially not Falcon. She was perfectly ready to insult him in his face, actually.

If only she hadn't noticed the peaking little shape from around the corner.

She let the Captain run off in a tizzy, offering neither confirmation or denial. Then she strolled over to the little hiding child.

"Bit rude to snoop, you know."

The little one froze solid, baffled as to how he got caught. It was a little endearing.

She smiled kindly. "Its Lucas, isn't it?"

The boy nodded.

"Big fan of Falcon?"

The boy nodded again, more eagerly. 

...Well, a bar perhaps wasn't the ideal place for a child. But she could probably keep an eye on him without any trouble. It might be nice to put a smile on an anxious child's face.

"I know just the place to get his autograph, if you promise not to drift away."

* * *

Ness wasn't really sure what the big deal was with bars. In his experience, all they served was coffee. And coffee was gross enough when it wasn't transporting you across dimensions.

But Lucas wanted to go and it seemed like a good idea to give the other youth back-up. So he gathered his things from the hotel room and began his journey towards this bar in question.

"Hey, kid!" The familiar care-free sight of a blue hedgehog zoomed into his view. "Where you off to in a hurry?"

* * *

Mega Man hadn't been to many parties. Not for lack of trying, mind you. He always wanted to make time, but he wasn't allowed to go into them while his weapons were installed. And everytime he uninstalled them, things tended to force his hand to reattach the dang things.

But this time would be different. Little Mac told him that Ike told him that Pit told him that... well, the list went on, but it seemed like there would be lots of fighters at this bar. They could handle his weapons easy-peasy, should something go wrong. This was his chance to finally sit down and relax!

"Hey, Metalhead!"

The Blue Bomber's trek was interrupted by the floating form of one nefariously petulant Bowser Jr.

"And where do you think _you're_ going?" His little snot-nosed voice grinded on his circuits.

Mega Man did some mental calculations considering the cost/benefit of telling the young koopa the truth.

"....the beach."

The future dictator frowned. "Well, if you wanna get fried, go ahead! It won't stop me from knocking you out! Bwahahahaha!"

The metal man quickly made his escape before the koopa asked additional questions. The party was going to be crowded enough without the likes of him around.

He wondered who started this whole get-together anyway. It must be someone pretty impressive if they could get so many fighters to come on a moment's notice. Hopefully the bar could fit everyone this quickly...

Well, Mega Man was sure they could handle it. What could possibly go wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I desperately desperately wish I could claim that the Snake's opinion of Splatoon bit was my own (don't take his opinion too seriously), but more than a little of it was cribbed from this amazing fanart: https://aaronthesnob.tumblr.com/post/180472835149/super-smash-bros-ultimate-snake-codecs-inkling.
> 
> I tried to stop myself but I couldn't resist pulling from it, so please give AaronTheSnob the attention he deserves.


	11. Bar Crawl Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Smash fighters go to a bar and its the beginning of many jokes.

**At the exact stroke of four forty-five,** the Trainer began her journey to 13th and Grand. Several people followed her. Some trailed farther behind. Others were already at the destination.

Once the crowd had largely vanished behind a corner, the soldier appeared from the alley to begin his own journey. Infiltrating the castle was risky. The security wasn’t high, but it was well known that the Princess could always tell when she had visitors at the castle. Some overpriced, highly praised, elite task force had once successfully sent nanocameras into the Peach castle at 3 am without a single alarm going off. The second the task force started to celebrate, the cameras went off. The next day, they received their little robots back through the mail with a very polite card and some cookies. They were delicious.

But Snake had little to fear. He had prepared for those exact circumstances. Coming to the Castle in secret was risky, but walking straight in with a fruit basket would go relatively unnoticed.

The Toad at the desk struggled to move the basket from the counter. “Thanks a lot, sir! I’m sure the Princess will appreciate it.”

Snake shrugged. “Anytime. Say, do you know which way’s the restroom?”

“Oh! Yes, down the hall!”

“Perfect. Have a good day.”

The Toad watched as Snake disappeared down the corridor before fiddling with the bag to grab a snack for himself.

* * *

Descending down the steps, Samus and Peach walked alongside each other. The Princess was still in her typical ensemble. Samus, however, had dressed down. She had grabbed a comfortable military jacket and grey fatigues. It was nice and straightforward. A good level of professional. And it meant if the crop top underneath felt too casual, she could cover it up easily. It wasn't a commitment to anything. Samus worked easier with an exit strategy.

“I’m glad you two have become such fast friends. I had a feeling you would get along.”

Samus tugged on her blue jacket. “She’s very intelligent. We’ve talked pretty much every night.”

Peach tilted her head slightly. “But…?”

“But? What but?”

“There’s something bothering you.”

Samus considered protesting before deciding to stick with the safer evasive action: bluffing dismissal. “No, its nothing. She’s great.”

“ _But...?_ ”

Action failed. She sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. “I don’t know. She never really talks about herself. She listens, sure, but I hardly know anything about her. You’ve had her here a month now. Where does she even come from?”

“I’ve had some trouble with that myself. She’s a very private soul, I’ve found.”

Samus nodded. “I know exactly what you mean. It takes a lot for her to open up. It’s almost kind of frustrating.” She sighed again as they stepped out into the castle’s plaza. “But maybe that’s what it’s like to talk to me sometimes.”

Peach smiled kindly. “I wouldn’t worry to much about it. This is the perfect chance to learn more about her. And I’m sure she’ll notice your new style today too.”

“We'll se-" The words processed and red shot up Samus’s face. She turned to sputter angrily. “Hang on- that’s not- _Peach!_ ”

The princess giggled as she returned to the castle. “Have a good night, Samus.”

The bounty hunter rolled her eyes and covered her blush as she made her way down the stairs to the bar in question. Honestly. It wasn't like she was _interested_ in Traynor. She was just... interested. There was an important distinction to make between interested and _interested_. She would dare to say she resented the conflation of the two.

The princess, meanwhile, found herself once again pondering the mystery of Traynor. Where she came from, what brought her to this kingdom, and what led to her gentle, thoughtful demeanor. These were questions she still lacked answers to. While everyone was entitled to privacy, Peach's natural curiosity could only hold off for so long.

Perhaps Snake would know. He seemed to know a lot of things about the world. Perhaps there was some country or city or even town where people like Traynor spawned from naturally. She would have to talk with him as soon as she found wherever he was hiding in the Castle.

* * *

Samus stared at the ensemble of people that had arrived outside Club 64. “You brought friends.”

“I brought friends.” Traynor smiled with upbeat enthusiasm.

Samus glanced over the small entourage that stood behind Traynor. She recognized a few faces. Isabelle. The squid girl. Some toads. Ganondorf, of all people.

“I was sort of expecting this to just be us.”

Traynor tilted her head curiously. “Is that a problem?”

“Oh, no, not at all.” Even if she couldn’t help but feel the sting of disappointment in her chest. “I’m sure we’ll all enjoy ourselves plenty.”

“Wonderful!” Traynor smiled again. “We should get started. Where is this bar?”

Samus gestured to the club behind her, moving towards it already. “Feel free to come on in.”

It was within seconds of opening the bar door that one Captain Falcon slammed into the wall next to them. The wood splintered slightly as Samus and Traynor jumped back. The Captain shook his head back into focus before providing the two women with a charismatic grin.

"Ah, Samus. Traynor. There should be a table between... ah, yes, over there by Falco. Good to see you!"

And with that, he raced to tackle Ryu. "Now I get to show you _my_ moves!"

Sure enough, a whole gaggle of fighters had already found their own spots in the bar. A crowd cheered as Ryu and Falcon wrestled with each other. Several children were embroiled in an ice cream eating contest to determine who maintained the greatest defense against brain freeze and the Ice Climbers seemed to be the likely winners against the Blue Bomber and the Psychic Duo. The Kongs and Banjo were enjoying their own splurge into bananas and honey. Kazooie was content pecking a hunter dog in the noggin, hoping to set it off against its duck friend. Meta Knight, Shulk, and Cloud had placed their swords on their table and were happily comparing efforts at maintenance. An Ivysaur had found a comfortable spot in the rafters to swing Pichu back and forth in the air. R.O.B. delivered drinks while Pikmin scrambled to avoid getting crushed under his tracks. Dedede and K. Rool were engaged in a furious debate about kingship, which seemed to include such choices phrases as "fraud" and "plastic crowns." Several other Pokemon and Kiby had found a corner to sleep peacefully as a frantic energy surrounded them.

The gathering was starting strong.

* * *

Even in his frustration, Ganondorf couldn’t help but find amusement in the situation. How the phrasing between these two must have gotten tangled and misconstrued. One assuming a romantic meeting, the other just following more training subroutines and processes. He could see the confusion on her face now as they entered Club 64. _This isn’t a gym_ , she was no doubt thinking. _No bars spotted. Exercise less than optimal in this environment. Beep boop error._ Absurdity really did seem to follow the Trainer’s wake.

It would be easier than expected, he mused, to work his wonders in this environment. He could get the Trainer alone when everyone else was distracted and finally figure out what exactly went wrong with her program. If that failed... well, perhaps manipulation was in order. He convince her that he was the only natural way for her training to continue. The wonders of fitness, with just a few spoken words in the right ears. Then his followers would build and his army would rise and power, real power, would be in his grasp once more.

So wrapped in his imagination was he, the Gerudo King nearly missed the mug placed in front of him.

“Your drink, sir.”

Ganon was used to receiving free drinks and nodded off-hand as he raised the glass to his lips. “Your worship is appreciated.”

“Not my worship, sir. It was a gift from that guy.”

Ganon glanced in the server’s pointed direction, expecting a local Gerudo who had immigrated to the kingdom.

Instead, the emotionless face of the hero of Hyrule stared back at him and waggled his fingers.

The King quickly descending into a coughing fit.

* * *

The Inkling was getting real annoyed with this nonsense. Day in and day out, she tried to get her one-on-one with Traynor. All she needed was a selfie, a choice quote, _something_ to post online to brag about at home. Sure, her freshness was pretty good. Better than most, to get into the tournament. Her current fan count rivaled the idols in size and scope.

But it wasn’t _enough_.

She needed to be _number one_.

Associating with the likes of Snake probably wasn’t helping. She’d looked him up again, briefly. His fall from grace was even worse than she thought. He’d gone from beloved war hero to government whistleblower. Nobody liked a narc. People that resisted things were just asking to lose popularity.

But he was useful, for now. He provided an angle to meet Traynor and to learn more about her. Everybody loved newcomers. Everybody wanted to know _everything_ about newcomers. That’s what got people excited for the next tournament. Nobody wanted to see the old news. They wanted to see the hot commodity, the mystery, the allure of new.

And if she was in the know… well, that meant she could avoid get tossed aside like everyone else who fell out of the limelight.

The problem was, this dang bar was stuffed full of people. Almost every fighter that had arrived, old and new, and found seats to fill. And other people were already trying to get inside to meet these legendary icons. The staff was clearly overwhelmed by the droves of new customers and were scrambling to set up more tables and chairs.

Which meant, once again, Traynor’s particular table had filled up.

She slumped down in her chair, twirling a straw in her carbonated drink. Simon sat down next to her, mug frothing in his hand.

“Snake was correct. She seems to have quite amassed a following.”

“I know, right? What do I have to do to get that popular? No one’s swarming around me.”

“I am not sure I approve of the admiration.”

“Ugh, are you still on that?” She rolled her eyes. “She’s not evil. No one who’s evil could be popular.”

“I beg to differ. The celebrated can be the most despised in due time.”

“Maybe eventually. When they stop being relevant.” She sipped from her drink. “You’re super old and stuff. You just don’t get it.”

He tapped his glass thoughtfully. “In my time, there was a man who others began to worship. He could do things no one had seen before. He was kind and generous, offering help to all the weak and suffering. He was adored. He was believed to be the man who would shape the future for the better.”

The Inkling grinned widely. “Yeah, people like that are the coolest! The guys who figure out what the people want and get it! That’s what being fresh is all about.”

“It was a trick. Dracula killed everyone who entered his castle and ravaged the land with monsters. Some of my good friends died by his hands.” He took another long drink.

In that moment, the Inkling wished the wooden floors of the bar could just envelop her into the ground and take her away.

She was almost glad when the screeching newcomers hopped into the chairs next to them.

“Hello there!”

“Great night out!”

“Boogie down!”

Almost.

* * *

Isabelle was having a pretty good night, all things considered. She had never been in a place like this before and she had been pretty nervous to go inside. But so far, the people had been so nice! The food was pretty good and someone had bought her a nice glass of milk.

(This wasn't to say Isabelle wasn't familiar with alcohol. She had graduated college, of course. But she hadn't enjoyed the taste much and dropped the vice entirely once she entered government work. She tended to abandon all potentially unhealthy habits as soon as responsibility was handed to her, regardless of their severity. The possibility of failure was too scary to Isabelle to risk a little indulgence.)

The servers seemed pretty overwhelmed, so Isabelle only felt it was right to help out. She carried dishes of meals and drinks around the bar, placing them carefully on placemats or coasters so the table wouldn’t stain. Every now and then, someone gave her some coins as a tip. She quickly delivered them to the tip jar, which the servers thanked her profusely for. It was so nice to see everyone getting along!

Taking a break, she sat down in a free seat. People seemed to be changing tables at a whim, so she was lucky this one seemed to be open. She looked up at her fellow table companions with a smile.

The others paid her little mind. The tall red-headed man on her right (Mr. Ganondorf, she believed) seemed to be invested in a staring contest with the blonde haired man on her right. Mr... Lonk was it? No, Mr. Link! That was it. She was very proud that she remembered.

“This is a great place, don’t you think?”

The two failed to respond, still enraptured in their contest.

“Everyone seems to be having a wonderful time! And the music is so nice... Oh, maybe we should tip the singer!”

“I suppose you think you’re clever, interfering like this.” Mr. Ganondorf’s voice was filled with… not niceness.

Mr. Link simply stared back. Maybe he was as confused as Isabelle was.

“You and the princess must feel so righteous on top of that tower you stand on. So pure and heroic, halting the big bad plans of the big bad villain.”

Mr. Link really seemed to be enjoying his chips. They were quite tasty.

“How naive. You would both do well to remember our roles.” Mr. Ganondorf leaned towards Link, hissing his words at them. “You may have the power of courage and she may have wisdom. But I?” There was a flicker of glowing light on Mr. Ganondorf’s palm. “I have _power_ . The power always trumps the rest. No matter what you _ingrates_ do, power will naturally flow back to me. Its simply the way of things.”

Mr. Link dipped his chip into the salsa. Mr. Ganondorf grimaced before leaning back into his chair. He tapped his chin to consider the events.

“No, perhaps you don’t think anything of it at all. You’re simply happy to do as your master bids. With courage by your side, well… no reason to worry about anything, hm? Its just nice to play fetch for her. Wagging your tail for little scratches behind the ear, like the filthy mutt you are, hm?”

He grinned as Mr. Link simply raised an eyebrow, pleased to finally get a reaction.

At least, that’s what Isabelle thought was happening. It was suddenly a little hard to see.

“...That’s not very nice.”

She felt humiliation course through her as Mr. Link and Mr. Ganon turned to glare at Isabelle, only to blink in surprise. She didn’t mean to let them see her cry. Oh, this was so _embarrassing_. She brushed away at her face, trying to hide it as best she could.

“I-I just don’t think its right to call people mutts. O-or to use dog a-as an- a word like that! I-I didn’t do anything to you s-so I don’t understand why you have to be s-so… rude!”

For the first time in a long time, both Link and Ganondorf were struck with a strange feeling of shame.

* * *

Samus had to admit. Traynor had gathered together a hell of a party.

Fighters from all walks of life had engaged into loud conversations at their respective tables. Ike, normally a man who despised royals, was teaching a drinking song to Corrin. Little Mac was arm-wrestling Captain Falcon, while Falco and Wolf placed separate bets. Lucas and Ness were clutching their skulls, while Mega Man and the Ice Climbers stuffed more rocky road down their own throats.

She still would have preferred more alone time. But the sights were entertaining at least.

It was after about an hour that she finally got a chance to sit next to Traynor. “You know, I was doubtful, but everyone here seems to be enjoying themselves.”

Traynor held her gaze on Shulk standing on a chair, attempting again to launch the perfect backflip. “They are very flexible.”

“Unlike some people.” The snark escaped her lips before she could stop them. She tried to stifle it behind a beer.

“Like who?”

She fixed Traynor with a Look. “You know, the whole purpose of this was to get you to relax. You’re helpful as hell, but I don’t ever get the sense that you’re… happy.”

Traynor blinked. “Am I not relaxed?”

Snort. “Definitely not.”

Traynor turned back to the crowd, looking over their activities.

She turned back to Samus. “How… do I do that?”

It was Samus’s turn to blink. “Huh?”

“Relax. How do I do it?”

It was a hell of a question to start with.

* * *

Isabelle blew on a tissue as the Hero of Hyrule patted her carefully on the back. Ganondorf tried not to let it bother him that dog snot was now all over his personal handkerchief.

“I did not mean to trouble you, miss.” The justification felt flimsy, even to him. “Involving you in our personal business was far from my intention.”

“I-I know, I know.” She sniffed a bit more. “But… things like that hurt, you know!”

“I understand.” He and Link shared a look of complete befuddlement. “Can I… get you something to drink? A meal, perhaps? On my dime.”

She honked on the cloth again. “...you mean it?”

“Of course. The Gerudo are enjoying quite the luxuries at the moment. It would be simple enough to pay for a meal.”

She nodded slowly. “...That would be nice.”

“There we go. All’s well that end’s well then.” He pointed to the front of the bar. “Why don’t you order yourself something and we can talk more in a moment?”

Isabelle nodded once more and then slowly got up to make her way to the counter.

Link and Ganondorf leaned back into their chairs in relief.

It had been ages since Ganondorf had ever had to comfort anyone. In fact, now that he thought about it, he could not recall the last time he had ever lowered himself to speak to a civilian in a manner such as that.

 _And why should you?_ Said a little familiar voice inside him. _That pesky little fur-brain is nothing compared to you. You are_ power _. The biggest and brightest power in the world. Maybe even in the universe. What does one little mutt matter to a being who is going to control everything?_

Ganondorf looked over the Hero of Hyrule, disgust building.

Link found himself wondering about disturbing similar feelings. He hadn’t stopped to help a normal life since… well, since this cold war with Ganondorf began. The battles just got too big and too large for him to think about the little people on the side. He had to direct his focus and courage elsewhere. It was almost concerning how many things he let slip away.

 _It matters little._ Said a familiar voice inside him. _There’s nothing to fear. There is no reason to fear anything. Fear is a distraction from doing what needs to be done. The courage is within you to always do what’s needed. You_ are _courage. Why should you be afraid of little issues like that?_

Link shot a glance at the King of Evil, brow slowly furrowing.

Ganondorf picked up his glass of wine and swirled it around carefully. “Well. Now that _that’s_ over with. You were busy quietly barking up trees?” The brief sensation of shame returned and he quickly decided to dive away from dog-based analogies. “But maybe you’re more of… a sloth. Lounging around as I continue to stretch my hand outward. Too lazy and uncaring to trouble yourself with interfering. Only watching helplessly.”

He sipped from his glass smugly. “How courageous indeed.”

Link said nothing, naturally. He merely fiddled with his sheath, letting the sound of a blade escaping and returning to its home repeatedly bounce its way back to the tyrant.

Tensions burned brightly once again.

* * *

The Inkling almost bumped into Isabelle on her way back to the table. “Oh, hey Isa- _whoa_ are you okay?”

Isabelle smiled, brushing away the rest of her tears. “Oh, I’m fine! I just… got a little upset, but things are better!”

The Inkling didn’t really understand but she wasn’t looking to get involved into another emotional nightmare. “Cool, cool. Staying fresh. You been keeping an eye on Traynor?”

“Huh?” Puzzlement followed by complete terror. “Oh! Oh, I completely forgot! And Mr. Snake asked us specifically…"

The Inkling acted quick to quell the panic. “Hey, hey, it’s alright! She’s probably just chatting up one of the other _dozens_ of people here. Plus its been hours! The old man’s stupid… whatever he’s up to is probably still safe.”

“You think so?”

“Course! Trust me, she’s plenty distracted.”

“Who is plenty distracted?”

The two girls looked up to see Traynor herself standing behind them curiously.

Brains scrambled to come up with cover stories.

“Uhhhhh... me! With all these people! I haven’t had a moment to rest with all those great conversationalists over there.” She gestured casually to the tables behind her. Traynor looked over in the direction of Simon before smiling. It struck the two shorter spies that her smile seemed more natural than usual.

“The Mii Fighter, the Mii Brawler, and the Mii Gunner. Very good students.”

“Yeah, right. What about you? You enjoying yourself?”

There were several seconds of Traynor’s usual thoughtful silence. “Perhaps. Samus said I needed to ‘relax.’” What a strange accent she had. It was like she had never used the word before.

“Oh yeah? What’s she got in mind?”

Traynor lifted up a napkin. “I’m have to wait for these drinks we ordered.”

“Ohohhhh yeah?” The Inkling quickly peaked over at the napkin to read off the hand-written list before quickly groaning in disgust. “Oh, come on! None of these are fresh. You gotta pick the popular stuff.”

“But Samus asked for this. She said I might enjoy it."

The Inkling tried and failed to wipe out the writing. “Then she’s clearly behind on the times. You can’t just pick things. You have to pick the popular things.”

“And you enjoy them?

The Inkling paused in surprise, looking up at the woman. “Huh?”

“The popular things. You enjoy them?”

There were multiple things in that moment that left the Inkling surprised. The question itself. The pleasant tone in which Traynor asked it. The way, for a moment, it felt like the sounds of the entire room died.

But perhaps strangest of all was the realization that she didn’t have an answer.

The clink of glasses on a table interrupted that train of thought. “Two Super Stars, as requested.”

Traynor quickly picked up the glasses, smiled at the other girls, and then returned to the table with Samus. The Inkling simply stood there in complete dumbfound confusion.

“Ummmm... Inkling?” The squid turned to her furry friend dumbly. Isabelle had a frown plastered on her face, head tilted and brows furrowed in concentration. “Did the Miis ever train under Miss Traynor while you were there?”

“Huh?” The Inkling struggled to regain her focus. “I don’t know, I don’t think so. Maybe. Why?”

“I don’t remember the Miis ever training under her either. I don’t think they ever have.”

She started to move away, desperately trying to concentrate on something solid. “Cool. Really fascinating. What’s it matter?”

“Why did she call them her students then? How'd she even know their _names_?"

Words processed.

Squid eyes blinked.

And then the two spun around to race to Simon's table.

* * *

The Trainer set the glasses on the table carefully. She had seen a few drinks spill this evening and she was not eager to repeat the action herself.

Samus raised an amused eyebrow as the Trainer sat down across from her. “Have you really never had a beer before?”

“I do not drink.”

“Gin? Vodka?”

“I do not drink.”

“Wine?”

“I do not drink.”

She shook her head, amazed. “Your self-control is astounding.”

“I did not know it was that unusual.” Yet, everyone seemed to be eating and drinking something in here. Lately, it felt less like she was the bastion of health and more like she was missing out on something.

Samus took a shot glass for herself and quickly chugged it down.”If it makes you uncomfortable, you don’t have to.”

The Trainer observed Samus as she downed another shot. “You enjoy it?”

Samus shivered all over as the alcohol spun down her system. “Kind of a strong word… how about ‘helps’?”

“It… helps?”

“Oh definitely. Long hours in space without anyone in sight.” Another shot went down the pipe. “It takes the edge off.”

The Trainer wasn’t entirely sure what the edge was. Maybe it was something that weighed people down. Perhaps that would be good for improving her internal balance.

“How do I take the edge off?”

Samus grinned, pushing a glass over in Trainer’s direction. “Drink it down.”

Ah yes. Drinking things. Food and liquids were still something the Trainer hadn’t toyed with. She was still reluctant to fiddle with such things.

But Samus seemed to think it would help. Trainer saw little reason to doubt her.

So she lifted up the glass and dumped its entire contents into her mouth.

The taste was bitter and foul. She nearly choked on it as it sloshed down her throat. Really now, she couldn’t see the “fun” in this at all. She hoped Samus wasn’t encouraging unhealthy practices. She should warn her about the potential dangers here.

She turned to Samus with a serious look. “Tweokfhasdfasdhfklas.”

The bounty hunter’s eyebrows shot straight up. “...what?”

She thought she was pretty clear. She repeated herself.

“Ppihqweglkasdfnpoiwhwfnasdfhasdjf.”

Concern rose on her features as she stood up. “You, uh… alright, Traynor?”

Something must be wrong with Samus's hearing. The Trainer rolled her shoulders. She wasn’t sure she appreciated how much the world was moving at the moment. It was very unideal to balance. Unideal. Was that a word? Words felt harder to grasp than usual. She could hardly respond to Samus if the words were floating away from her.

She leaned forward. And then she leaned back. And then she leaned forward again.

The world went black seconds before she crashed right into the table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Genuinely really glad for once that I put off the final edits of this chapter so long, just to add some bits to the scene of the bar. Welcome home, Banjo-Kazooie.


	12. Bar Crawl Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Trainer attempts alcohol.

**Isabelle had sprawled the pages of colorful lined paper across the bar table**. Each of Snake’s so-called spies buried themselves in their own section, combing for details. They paced around the table in a circle, struggling to decipher the clues.

“You are certain this covers everything of note from the gym?” It was a question Simon felt it difficult to even ask. The efficiency of Isabelle’s extensive notes was beyond the plae. It was hand-written in the cleanest font, color-coded by day and highlighted with handy tabs corresponding to whoever was monitoring Traynor that day.

“I’m positive!” She tapped a paw on the page. “They’ve never even been in the same room together since the tour!”

The Inkling threw her hands up in the air. “Well, maybe she misspoke! Maybe she considers everyone here a student.”

“Yet she was very familiar with their names. I have yet to hear those creatures introduce themselves once.”

“But this still doesn’t _mean_ anything. They could have met lots of times before that.”

Isabelle pointed her paw right at the Inkling. “Like before the tournament started!”

Inkling gestured pointedly. “Exactly.”

Simon and Isabelle gestured pointedly back. “ _Exactly._ ”

“Hold on.” She lifted up a hand. “Is your exactly different from my exactly?”

Simon swept around the table with the confidence of an entire family line of vampire hunters, including the ones the world chose to forget. “If those bizarre creatures have a history to Traynor, that could be our first clue into uncovering her background.”

“Do we _have_ to? They're so... creepy.”

“You mean Mii?”

“Mii is here too!”

“Don’t forget Mii!”

Simon and the Inkling each jolted several feet in the air in surprise and terror at the sound. Isabelle, a less agile creature, only managed a few inches. The three Miis simply smiled at them with their beady flat eyes and their unmoving lips. Isabelle quickly scrambled on top of the table to cover their tracks, scattering the notes to the ground. The Inkling dived after them, snatching papers seconds before they hit the wet slop of spilled drinks.

“H-hi guys! What are you doing back so soon?” Inkling attempted to lean against the metal table leg casually, or at least as casually as someone could sitting underneath a table with piles of evidence that she'd spied on everyone behind her back.

“Did you not say you were going to grab a meal?”

The Miis each presented a plate they had retrieved from the bar.

“Snacks are sooooo good!”

“I love nachos!”

“Can’t resist these fries!”

Simon and the Inkling nodded and smiled politely, trying desperately not to be too disconcerted by the chipper screeches of the things.

Isabelle, on the other hand, was relatively relieved. Screeching had never bothered her. She worked in government.

“We were just thinking about getting something for Miss Traynor. You wouldn’t happen to know her favorite food?”

“My favorite food is hot dogs!”

“I love nachos!"

“Can’t resist those fries!”

“That’s nice! But I’m wondering about her tastes…” She gestured to Traynor, lurched over her table.

The Miis stared at her for several seconds, as if struggling to comprehend the basics of the question. Their smiles never vanished in the entirety of their pondering.

“No idea!” one said finally.

“Never asked her!”

“Needs to get out more!”

“Oh, that’s a good idea,” Isabelle nodded enthusiastically. “We should send her an invitation in the mail.”

This seemed to delight the Miis. “Yes! Mail!”

“Pen pals!”

“Keep in touch!”

Isabelle clapped her paws together in excitement. “Great! Do you know her address?”

“Of course!”

“Wuhu Island!”

“Tropical paradise!”

“Aloha!” The yellow-shirted Mii wiggled about like it was using a hula hoop.

A name. The Inkling and Simon glanced at each other meaningfully before quickly diving into the conversation themselves.

“Wuhu Island?”

“Woohoo!” squealed the red Mii.

“No, I mea-”

“Woohoo!” repeated the blue Mii.

“Woohoo!” repeated the final Mii.

The Inkling picked up a glass, lifting it above the head of a Mii. Simon calmly took it from her hands. “Charming. This Island, where is it?”

“The ocean!”

“Yes, I am aware, but-”

There was a loud thump from across the room as Little Mac slammed another hand into the table. “Yeah! Who else wants to try me?”

The Miis immediately started scrambling towards the collection of arm wrestling fanatics. “Mii!”

“Mii too!”

“Don’t forget Mii!”

Simon quickly reached to try and grab the Miis before they could escape. “Wait! We still have questions!”

But he could only grasp air. The three fighters were left alone with their questions once more.

Isabelle peaked over the edge of the table. “....Could someone help me down?”

* * *

Snake couldn’t help but feel hopeless as he looked over what remained of Traynor’s room. He had completely tossed the place. He had taken off all the sheets from her bed. He had tapped every square inch of the floor to find any potential cracks or false floors that could hide items of interest. He had examined every tiniest morsel of hidden space for secret treasures. Yet there seemed to be absolutely nothing of note in the Traynor’s life. No family photos. No personal objects. No treacherously deceptive plans to launch a new superweapon onto the world.

As far as he could tell, there was absolutely nothing interesting about Traynor in the slightest. That was the damnable thing of it all. He knew secret agents. There were certainly good ones out there who knew just the right cover to give themselves. But they always went a bit too far. You’d find Soviet Agents under identities that portrayed themselves as more American than any American.

Yet Traynor had _nothing_. No information, no background, absolutely nothing tying her to this world.

It was downright spooky.

Unfortunately, now he had to return the room to exactly as it was before he arrived. Which meant making her bed just as the Toads had.

The soldier grumbled to himself as he folded bedsheets over pillows. He really wasn’t meant for this kind of work. How had the Colonel convinced him to get involved into all this again?

He was about to take his leave when his foot touched another piece of cloth. One of Traynor’s other clothes. _I may as well be thorough, I guess_. He picked up the laundry and moved to drop it into the hamper.

He paused. His hand felt around in the pockets.

There was a tiny little card in there. It felt oddly dry, like it had been through the washer or a swimming pool. Some of the ink had been washed out. But he could just barely make out a name and an address.

“Hnnnngh. Mona…?”

* * *

The smell of salt flowed up the Trainer’s nose. Her eyes fluttered and her mind slowly began to move as intended. Even so, she didn’t feel right. She pushed herself up from the table, analyzing her surroundings.

The world around her seemed to be moving too fast for her to follow. The rowdy actions of the surrounding bar patrons seemed louder and more energetic than she recalled.

“You alright?” She turned to find the concerned featured of Samus Aran watching over her. Her hands were on Trainer’s cheeks, checking for something. Even this small action seemed too quick somehow.

For a brief horrifying moment, the Trainer wondered if perhaps she was simply too slow. The idea was sickening.

“Traynor? Talk to me.”

“....The world,” she managed at last. Her tongue felt enormous, struggling to make room for the words to seem. “Unbalanced?”

Samus’s concern melted, slightly. “I think that’s mostly you.”

Oh that couldn’t be right. That was completely impossible. Yet, as she looked down at the floor, it still seemed to be shifting. “I’m… swaying?”

“While sitting _down_. You... _really_ can’t handle your liquor.”

A wave of dizzyness swept over the Trainer as she shook her head. “Drink… don’t.”

The Trainer wasn’t used to combining words. It felt incomplete. She had heard other people speak in such a way, of course. At the moment, when it was so much harder to get the words out, attempting contractions seemed like a necessary compromise.

She looked around again, at the partying students. Joy evident on all their faces. They all seemed to be having a good time, even as the alcohol flowed down their floats. Was this lack of fitness troubling the world that the Board had warmed her of? Warmed? No, warned. Oh, that’s funny, they sound a lot alike. She found her lips tugging up in amusement.

“They sound the same,” she smiled at Samus.

“They… what?”

“Warmed. Waaaaarmed. Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarmed.”

She could see that Samus was similarly amused by this. “Oh, we definitely gotta get you home soon.”

She imitated Samus’s movement, touching her cheeks. Oh, Samus’ face was so soft, yet strong! Samus in general seemed very fit. She should tell her as much. It was important to tell people how good they were.

"You're... very good."

“...You don’t say.”

“You _are_.” Traynor wagged a finger in Samus’s face, finally releasing her grip. “Very fit. Strong. Flexible.”

“So I’ve heard.” Samus glanced at her wrist. “Oh, look at the time. We should really get you to bed.”

“Why?” 

“So you can get sleep, for one thing.”

The Trainer grimaced. Again with this _bed_ stuff. “I don’t need sleep.”

“Of course. What was I thinking. But how about we get you back there anyway?”

Trainer simply nodded half-hazardly. If Samus wanted it, it'd be nice to give her something.

“ _Perfect_. Thank you. I’m gonna get one last drink to go and then we’ll leave, alright?”

She nodded again and Samus quickly made her way to the bar.

* * *

The eye of newt plopped into the frothing pot. A wooden spoon quickly circled around it, mixing it deep into the brew. The hue of the mysterious liquid shifted from purple to red. With just a few more ingredients, a fearsome power would be spawned into the world, all for her use only. No one could tell her what to do after that.

So invested was she in her potion making, Ashley picked up her ringing phone without checking the Caller ID.

“If you’re trying to sell me something, I wish be sure to send you a curse that will haunt your family tree for generation.”

“So you keep saying, Ashley.” Mona’s tone was as dry as sandpaper.

Crap. She had been avoiding Mona’s calls for a day or so now. She just knew the old hag was gonna have a whole fit about it. “I’m not coming in. You can’t make me come in. I have today off.”

“Ashley.”

“I will personally send every ghost I know to haunt you if you make me come into work today.”

“ _Ashley_.”

“And I don’t want excuses.” She was on a roll now, twirling her spoon in her hand. “The fat man promised me two nights off, this is my night off.”

“I just want to know how you handled the Trainer situation.”

Ashley didn’t know how to respond to that question. She debated bluffing, but that sounded like too much effort.

“Who?”

“The- _seriously?_ The Wii Fit Trainer. The Wario Island project?”

Memories of an annoying pale woman flowed back. “Ohhhhhhhhh, ugh, right, her. Are you still worrying about that freak?”

“Depends. Where did you send her off to? You found her family or friends or something, right?”

Ashley considered her move yet again. It was beginning to feel like it would be safer to bluff. “Yeah, she reunited with her lost dog and everything. Very touching.”

“And you got her name? Any records we could pull in case she _does_ sue?”

God what a downer. “Uh, no, sorry. She just talked about… plants or something. Real weirdo.”

There was dead air.

Ashley waited for Mona's response.

Mona waited for Ashley to fess.

Ashley waited for Mona to realize she wasn't going to fess on her own.

Mona waited for Ashley to recognize that fessing earlier, rather than later, would equal less yelling.

Ashley waited for Mona to understand that it wasn't a matter of yelling, it was a matter of principle.

Mona waited for Ashley to grasp that oh you want to talk PRINCIPLE, kid? _Principle?!_ How about doing your job for once instead of leaving me to pick up the slack?!

Ashley waited for it to sink into the old hag's head that just when her hours are done, she is DONE. She's not here for work ethic- she's here to get paid and get done. If Mona wanted to work overtime for a reward that will never come, she was free to dance and dance till the cows come home. Just leave her out of it.

Mona waited for Ashley to stop being such a petulant child for once in her immature little life because good GOD, its not about overtime! Its about actually doing the job you're given and not leaving the mess with other people to deal with! There's a difference between clocking out and creating a mess that other people have to deal with while you lounge around at home you little- you insufferable- UGH!

Ashley waited for light to shine down from the sky and smack Mona with the epiphany that Ashley would never stop being a petulant child, you can't make her, old hag. So there.

Mona caved.

“You didn’t take her home, did you?”

“Oh I super didn’t.”

“God _damn it_ , Ashley! You had one job!”

The witch threw her hands in the air, for her own benefit rather than for Mona. The wooden spoon flew up into the air “She wasn’t even on the ship anymore when I checked on her! She probably just went back into the ocean to swim around with the fish!”

“And what if this comes back on us? What if suddenly, we’re dealing with people suing us for… I don’t know, lack of care maybe? Or she knows about some health violations on Wuhu that _we_ haven’t dealt with yet!”

“Who cares! It’s not like anyone would listen to a freakazoid like her!”

Oh she could just _hear_ Mona pinching the bridge of her nose on the other line. “Have you looked at the news at all lately?”

She scoffed. “No. _Duh._ ” News was about other people and Ashley hated other people as a rule.

“Why don’t you go ahead and look up the latest Smash news?”

“Why would I ever-”

“ _Can you cooperate for once in your life.”_

The answer was an obvious no, but Ashley knew better than to aggravate the one who signed her paycheck _too_ far. With extreme reluctance, she rolled her chair over to the computer and typed away. It was a dusty old thing she rarely touched and it took some time for the dial-up to get moving. After several excruciating minutes, headlines peppered her screen.

“This is just a bunch of gossip rags about Lucario is in a secret relationship.”

“ _Ashley_.”

“I don’t even know what I’m looking for! I don’t care about your dumb sports thing so can’t you jus-” Her voice trailed off as she processed one of the images in front of her.

A pale woman was smiling side by side with Princess Peach of the goddamn Mushroom Kingdom. The biggest idiot in the world, with the potential to cause trouble for WarioWare and most definitely their careers, side by side with the most powerful figure in the world.

“...Oh.”

Ashley hated wrong things. She hated magic that was wrong because it just caused a huge hassle that only she could fix. She hated people who were wrong, because that often meant she would have to be the one to correct them. But most of all, she hated being wrong. And she particularly hated having to admit it.

“...Clearly that’s a twin.”

“Ashley.”

“A cousin maybe.”

“ _Ashley._ ”

“Or maybe just someone you think looks similar. Not all pale people are the same you know.”

“ **Ashley**.” She could hear the anger struggling to stay contained between Mona’s pearly teeth. “I needed you. To do your job. Now you need. To do your job. And get _something_ on that woman that we need to know.”

“I’m _busy_.”

“ _Y_ _ou better be._ ” And the click on the other side told the girl that she wasn’t encouraging her to find other things to be busy with.

Crap.

* * *

This was immensely strange. Traynor was so extraordinarily private. It was an admirable trait, and one Samus could understand. But she was having trouble imagining a more emotive Traynor and even more trouble seeing it before her eyes. Samus hadn't been able to do much but stare uncomfortably when Traynor pressed her hands further on her face. She had felt kind of like a fish, her mouth forced open by the hands.

But Samus was familiar with this stage of alcohol induced behavior. There was a breed of drunk women, Samus had concluded long ago, that were some of the sweetest, kindest women in the world. With red faces and a confidence now unrestrained, compliments would flow freely and happily. People around them were potential friends rather than threats. There were few things more endearing.

And more importantly, this particular type of woman as this particular stage of acoholity needed to be kept as far away from danger as super-humanly possible. 

“One beer to go, please.” The Toad reached down behind the counter to fiddle through the stock.

“H-hey, Miss Samus!” The hunter looked down to see Isabelle and the squid girl tugging at her jeans for attention.

“Are you guys even allowed in here?”

The Inkling huffed. “I got a _soda_ , geez. Listen, has Traynor said anything about an island or anything to you?”

The bounty hunter raised an eyebrow. “She isn’t really the vacationing type.”

“She does seem pretty busy…” nodded Isabelle. “It’s important to relax every-”

“Yeah yeah yeah, sure, so nothing about some place called Wuhu Island.”

“I… don’t think so.” She gestured behind her. “Why don’t you ask her yourself?”

Isabelle and Inkling didn't have long to process the location of Traynor. Samus didn't have time to remain certain of Traynor's movements. Alarming things tend to cascade into each other like dominoes, creating more and more chaos in their wake.

Which is all to say it was around this point that the bar caught on fire.


	13. Bar Crawl Part III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The bar is set ablaze.

**How the fire at Club 64 started is a subject of some debate.** Some placed the blame at the feet of their enemies. Some of the more heroic types placed the blame on themselves. One attorney of the Wright Anything Agency declared that the owner of Club 64 was the party who held the most blame. The whole establishment was nowhere near the realm of proper fire code. An accident was bound to happen with such lax safety standards.

Months after the incident, one Wolf O'Donnell would eventually make a rather compelling, if convoluted, argument that all of this was actually all because of former Star Fox leader James McCloud. If James hadn't made an enemy of Andross, the mad scientist would have never tried to conquer the Lylat system to begin with. If the Lylat Wars never occurred, the universe would be at peace and the need for a tournament to resolve such high tensions would be unnecessary. And without the tournament, Samus and the Trainer would have never met and arranged a get-together. The entire gathering at Club 64 never would have occurred. So you see, everything really comes down to how inferior the McClouds are compared to might of Star Wolf, _Fox_ _._

Fox McCloud stated on record that the fire was O'Donnell's fault.

Ironically, Wolf's argument might have more merit if he was aware of the _other_ connections the deceased dictator had with the elusive Trainer...

* * *

Fox McCloud wasn't sure how he got pulled into this conversation. His focus kept shifting back enviously to Falco back at their table. The birdbrain simply raised a glass smugly, ever so delighted he didn't have to be involved in this situation.

Olimar's hopping on the table brought his attention back. "I _demand_ you do something about thi-this criminal!"

Joker gestured to his glass, an elegant motion. "I can share."

It was, of course, root beer.

"Not _that_! Your organization has critically harmed the profits of Hocotate Freight!"

"The boxes needed to be stopped."

Fox pinched the bridge of his nose. "Olimar, Star Fox is an independent military outfit. I can't _actually_ arrest people unless they're a clear danger."

Joker spun his phone in his fingers. "Watch out, I'm armed."

"Don't you make fun!"

"My deadly weapon: canceling packages on the go." He tossed a fry at the intergalactic deliver man. It bounced off his spacesuit harmlessly. It damaged the ego tremendously.

Olimar's arm pointed outward in shaking fumes of anger. "He's threatening me!"

Fox would rather go back to the academy than deal with this. " _Joker._ Please don't antagonize him."

"But I'm a big evil space pirate. Yo-ho-ho." 

Olimar puffed up even larger. "You're wasting precious food! And you're all about hurting honest businessmen, of course you're gunning for my bosses next!"

The thief pushed his glasses up. "They know what they did."

"Eco-terrorist!"

"Not lately. I _could_ expand my resume."

Fox gazed back at his own table longingly. "There's no records that the Phantom Thieves are even terrorists, Olimar."

"Someone here is! The paper said so! Who else but the confirmed criminal?!"

Cloud Strife dropped his giant sword on the table. "This seat taken?"

Startled, a batch of Pikmin toppled off the table. One in particular landed onto the head of a passing R.O.B. It struggled to its feet, shuffled around in a daze, before tipping over into one of the plates the robot was carrying.

It didn't have much time to recover as a giant glob of ice dropped down on its head.

* * *

Mega Man clutched his forehead in agony.

"I don't even have a real brain- how did you _win_?"

Popo and Nana simply grinned smugly, chowing down on their ice cream unabated. Ness pat the robot on the shoulder, as if to say _forget it, Rock. Its Ice Climber town_.

Lucas picked up a new bowl of ice cream off of R.O.B.'s platter. This one was very fancy. It even had a little leaf sticking out on the top. Eagerly, he dug his spoon into the bowl.

The leaf screamed at him.

He screamed back, dropping it on the floor. His companions' bowls soon followed as surprise and alarm overtook the table.

* * *

Shulk stood up from his table suddenly. "I'll go get Squirtle."

Bayonetta wasn't particularly interested in the young swordfighter, a more interesting conversationalist than usual at least, but usually it was her who left people at bars. "Boring you, was I?"

"Oh, not at all. But this bar is going to be on fire in a second and its good to be prepared."

Eyebrows went up. "Excuse me?"

"Oh, and please watch your step."

Bayonetta could hear a child's scream from across a city. Across the bar was hardly a challenge. Immediately forgetting his conversation with the strange boy, she leaped to her feet, racing over to the terrified blond child.

"Dear, what's w-"

Her heels immediately slipped out from under her as she stepped into the splats of creamy ice. Even she wasn't graceful enough to avoid falling backwards into Link and Ganondorf's table behind her. Plates and glasses shattered across the floor. The two warriors rose to their feet in surprise.

"Uggghhhh." She was sprawled out on the floor now, glaring at the ceiling. "Smashing."

The tyrant snorted at the woman, returning his gaze to his opponent. "Shall we take this outside, then?"

Link nodded, already turning to the door.

"Well. Glad to see you feel such sympathy." Bayonetta picked herself off the floor, glaring after the two men. She would have rejected their help if they offered, but the offer would still be _appreciated_. Self-reliance didn't mean she didn't like manners. But she didn't let the mess trouble her as she returned her attention to the children.

What was once Ganondorf's glass of vodka trailed off to the other side of the bar.

* * *

The infamous Wolf O'Donnell snickered from the corner. Smoke wafted from his cigarette, an Earth creation he had gained a fondness for. Seeing Fox stuck with these petty fights was entertaining enough. Watching morons pratfall into each other was even better. And best of all, these whelps were too intimidated to dare approach him. Everyone walking by gave him barely hid their fear. He was glad to see that his reputation preceded him.

He was somewhat less accurate on this assumption than he might like. While other fighters were already inclined to avoid Wolf, they were primarily focused on the giant dragon that had decided to rest next to him. The possibility of an angry Charizard was far more terrifying than a petty thug. 

Isabelle and the Inkling raced passed him, trying to make their way towards Samus. As they slipped by, Isabelle quickly pipped up. "No smoking inside, Mr. Wolf!"

He bared his teeth after her. "Stupid, pup."

Now he was feeling vindictive. He searched his pockets for a box, letting his first cigarette drop from his lips. Smoking out of spite was a pastime everyone should try more often, in his opinion.

The light fell right into the stream of vodka that ran across the bar.

Nothing happened, of course. While certainly a dramatic effect, there's simply too much liquid in alcohol to be set ablaze by cigarettes as quickly as the movies suggest. Instead, the drink put out the light completely.

But the disgusting smell remained. It gently rose from the ground, drifting over to the fearsome Charizard.

His nose sniffled. He blinked awake, nostrils flaring repeatedly.

Then he sneezed flames.

* * *

Link didn’t particularly care how the events had escalated. He had probably made some expressions that the King of Darkness took offense to, insulting some honor of some kind. And like the drunk, stupid, corrupt brute he was, the King demanded retribution.

Ganondorf glanced in disgust at the filth and grime surrounding them. A toppled over trash can in the corner, abandoned boxes, disturbingly wet spots.

“Look at the muck this country has riddled itself in, hero.” His gravelly voice spewing with hate. “The decadence of it all. The people here… the people of Hyrule… people everywhere… so _complacent_. Eating up whatever people tell them, blindly accepting authority… they’re all filthy, lazy, pigs, unwilling to do anything to better themselves or their world.”

He grinned a wide-toothed grin in Link’s direction.

“They were _meant_ to be subjugated.”

The words mattered little to Link. His hand was already on the sword.

“Oh, don’t pretend to be so noble, _hero._ ” He spat the word out like it was a hair he found in his burger. “You and your princess know it too. Know how much _better_ we are than them. That’s why we were chosen by the Goddesses. By the Triforce.” He lifted up his hand, the glowing triangle on his palm more apparent than ever. Dark smoke surrounded the hand “We have a _destiny."_

He was really going on, wasn’t he?

“Yet you insist on fighting the way of things. The natural order that declares the _powerful_ should control the _weak._ ”

Link hoped he would finish soon. He had strict orders not to attack unless Ganon made the first move.

“Those that would defy that order…” And finally, Ganondorf reared back his hand, dark energy surrounding his fist. “ _Deserve_ to be plowed under the road of history!”

It was at that moment just before Link’s sword reached Ganondorf’s neck that the back door of the bar burst open and a crowd of drunken fighters stumbled out of the smoking building. 

Link's sword vanished back into its sheath. Ganondorf's hand disappeared into his pockets.

The crowd barely noticed the duo, desperate to escape the growing stench of smoking wood. Loud rambling and arguing could be hurt among the stream of people.

"Get your filthy paws away from me, pup!"

"I saw you _right_ where the fire started, don't play games!"

"I'm for _hire_ , I don't set fires willy-nilly."

"It was me. I confess. Send me to the clink, Chief."

"Joker, I don't have time for this-"

Somewhere among the squabblers, the Hyrulians spotted her. Swept up in the excitement of the fighters, the Trainer was being carried away by the crowd.

Link hadn’t been paying... the _most_ attention when to Zelda’s explanation of the Trainer’s true identity. She was needed for some part of Zelda’s plans. Maybe she was just some pawn from Ganon’s side of the board. Zelda would probably explain it all again when it were relevant. He had focused more on the Trainer’s potential physical abilities that could aid him if he had to defeat her.

Given the way the woman wobbled around in her attempts to walk three feet forward, it was hard to imagine she would put up much of a fight.

The hero and the villain of Hyrule observed carefully as the Trainer, mumbling to herself, bounced between swordsman and Pokemon and others, struggling to make her way across the alley. Her eyes were clearly not focused well on anything more than two steps in front of her.

Managing to stumble out of the pack, she wobbled before the two. She squinted at the Hyrulians before a wide grin crossed her face. “Hellllllo there, Mr. Canandid!” 

Link and Ganondorf glanced at each other warily. Which one was she talking to....?

But she was already swaying away down the alley.

The warriors of Hyrule weren’t sure how to quite react. Twice now in the past thirty minutes, years of tensions boiled to the surface only to be completely squashed by an unexpected interruption. It was hard to build up the same determination to fight to the death under these circumstances.

Plus, they both really needed that woman to not trip in front of another car.

The two men regarded each other briefly before achieving a silent agreement.

“You aren’t worth the trouble, hero.” Ganondorf sneered, likely more to appease his own sense of superiority. “I have larger plans in motion that can’t involve a petty fight with a child.”

Link debated walking off, but decided to wait patiently for him to finish. The King might get angry again otherwise and Link really did need to keep an eye on that woman.

Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, a familiar little jingle and a nervous yet chipper voice interrupted Ganondorf from reaching the speech’s completion.

“Oh, hello Mr. Link! Mr. Ganon! I was worried you didn't get out in time!”

Behind Isabelle was a concerned looking Samus Aran.

"Either of you seen Traynor?"

The two men may not have held the Triforce of Wisdom, but neither was stupid either. No one messed with Samus Aran.

They quickly pointed to the end of the alley. The bounty hunter quickly sped off towards the street. She twirled around for a moment before frowning.

The Trainer had already vanished into the night

* * *

The Miis, all in all, were pretty satisfied with their evening. They played all sorts of games with people. They got to enjoy good food. They embarked into all sorts of exciting conversations.

But they were mostly excited about the games. They didn't have as many games as they used to, now that they were off the island. Games were things people did together to have fun. And fun was good.

The biggest stumbling block was that people never seemed to quite have enough fun around them. The Miis had always puzzled over this. They tried so hard to make sure people were having fun, but it never seemed to be enough. It was a very unusual conundrum that they had yet to solve.

But they would, eventually. And then the world would be filled with fun and merriment, just like it should be.

As the crowd of fighters dispersed, the Miis decided it was best to head off to bed as well. They had a strict, healthy schedule to maintain after all. They passed an increasingly frantic Samus Aran yammering into the phone.

“Okay- that’s- alright, I’ll look around. Let me know if she comes back to the Castle, alright?”

It didn't take long for the Miis returned to their own hotel, happily chatting among themselves. When they reached their respective rooms, they all took the time to stop, smile, and wave at each other.

“See you tomorrow!”

“Get a good night’s sleep!”

“Early bird gets the worm!”

And so, in perfect unison, each Mii closed the door behind themselves, brushed their teeth, got into pajamas, and tucked themselves under their bed sheets. The Brawler and the Swordfighter were asleep instantly.

Yet the Gunner was not asleep. As soon as all the previous actions had been completed, she got back on her feet and put back on her clothes. She gathered together a basket of snacks and quietly left the room.

This was the third night she had broken the usual schedule. She had never broken the schedule before arriving in the Kingdom. But it was important.

She had to meet with her new friend.


End file.
